The True Cost
by Isalen
Summary: When Aramis was 16 he rescued a girl from the pyre. Now it might be time to face the consequences. Who is attacking musketeers? What is the Cardinal plotting? What is the true cost of saving a life?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the musketeers (no matter how many wishing wells I visit) or any of the characters on the tv show, but Mirabelle and Melanie are my own creations.

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_Mirabelle_

_The pyre loomed over Mirabelle's head as she was dragged roughly towards it and tied alongside her parents. She grasped her mother's hand, desperate to stay near her until the end. She saw a man throw a burning stick onto the pyre, and smelt the thick smoke as it began to rise. She peered up sideways at her mother and saw her coughing violently. The man who threw the stick was leaving, he didn't look back. Couldn't bear to see the faces of the people he had condemned as the life left their eyes. Through the thick smoke she could barely make him out but she saw his uniform. A musketeer. Then the smoke overwhelmed her and darkness was everything._

_Melanie_

_Melanie sat, staring at the fire. She wondered what the flames would look like from the inside, with the smoke burning your lungs and the flames burning your skin. She wondered if it would be quick, if her family would be able to feel their flesh char or if the smoke would take their consciousness first. She wondered if Mirabelle would understand what was happening, why they had to die. She wondered how the musketeers would feel, knowing they had murdered a 13 year old child and her innocent parents. She thought about anything to avoid to thought that was eating her from the inside. She had lived and they had died. And that was her fault._

_She would have cried herself to sleep that night if she could have slept at all. In fact she stayed awake all night, too scared of the nightmares that would surely come with sleep. The knock at the door came suddenly. She jumped up and grabbed the nearest weapon to hand, a poker, and cautiously kicked open the door. The sight that met her was not to be expected. A boy stood in the doorway, holding the dead body of her twin sister. She screamed, whacking him wildly with the poker, trying to slam the door closed in his gloating face. Why had he come here? Did he want to taunt her for murdering her sister? She slammed the door hard but a powerful foot stopped it from closing._

_"Calm" a soft voice whispered, surprisingly the soothing. Melanie found herself trusting it immediately. She paused and looked at him closer. He looked to be about 16, and handsome._

_"Who are you?" she asked_

_"My name is Aramis" the boy said. "Your sister is alive. I'm sorry, I can't stay to explain. Just take her and run, leave Paris. You're not safe here."_

_Melanie nodded, Aramis passed Mirabelle to her and then he was gone. This time Melanie slammed the door hard and bolted it. She felt the gentle rise and fall of her sister's chest and knew that Aramis spoke the truth. She also knew that they had to leave. And they could never come back. Melanie had failed to protect her sister once. She had been given a second chance and she wasn't going to ruin it this time. She couldn't lose her sister again._

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There we go... My first chapter. Thanks for reading :) , I'd really appreciate any reviews, especially since this is my first ever fanfic :) . This is just the first chapter so please bear with me, the next chapter will be with all the musketeers.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi, thank you so much for the lovely reviews :) this chapter is with all the musketeers grown up and basically follows on from the last episode. Its mostly from Aramis' point of view but there's a tiny bit of Athos'.

Disclaimer: I don't own the musketeers

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Aramis

Aramis sat in the garrison carefully cleaning his musket. Porthos strolled in a sat next to him on the bench.

"Quiet week, eh?" he grumbled

Aramis sighed. They hadn't had a single assignment all week. Not even a petty robbery.

"Almost makes me wish someone would get attacked just so we'd have something to do" Porthos said

"Now Porthos, you can't go round saying things like that... although on this occasion I'd have to agree. No thefts, attacks, murders, mysteries. Nothing interesting at all has happened in the whole of Paris for seven days!"

He sighed again and returned his attention to his musket. Porthos looked restless and only remained in his seat for a minute before rising to spar with some of the other bored musketeers. Aramis just smiled and shook his head. He supposed they should be glad for a little peace.

He finished cleaning his musket and began watching Porthos. None of the others were anywhere near a match for him. He wasn't even trying with most of them, and he still looked bored.

"You seen Athos today?" he questioned. Porthos didn't even look round from his fight as he answered.

"Nah, he had a bit of a late night though so I wouldn't expect him before lunchtime" He chuckled as he threw his opponent to the floor and walked over to rejoin Aramis.

"That bad?"

"Ha, I had to practically carry him home"

The friendly, relaxed atmosphere in the garrison was suddenly shattered by a pained yell. Porthos and Aramis stood hurriedly.

"d'Artagnan!" they shouted in unison, running in the direction of the sound.

Athos

Athos stared at the ceiling and groaned at the sudden memory of the previous night. He groggily pulled himself off the bed, vaguely considering taking the day off when a he heard a yell that had the same effect as dunking his head in a bucket of water. Immediately alert, he leaped up and dressed, grabbing his sword as he charged out the door, not bothering with his jacket or uniform.

Aramis

Aramis and Porthos reached d'Artagnan at the same time as Athos. They stood staring at their friend for a moment before moving. He had collapsed on the floor, clutching at a dagger wound in his side. His hands were covered in blood and a pool was forming on the stone. Aramis knelt down beside him.

"d'Artagnan, can you hear me?"

d'Artagnan couldn't speak, but he nodded. Aramis tore open the boy's shirt to look at the wound. Athos visibly winced when he saw the damage.

"Porthos, can you carry him back to the garrison"

Porthos nodded and lifted d'Artagnan gently in his arms.

"Sorry" he mumbled as d'Artagnan cried out in pain at the sudden movement. Aramis looked around the deserted alley, whoever it was they were long gone now. If they'd had a horse waiting then they could be on the other side of Paris by now. Porthos was walking back to the garrison with d'Artagnan but Athos and Aramis remained where they were. He wasn't sure, but Aramis could guess what he was thinking.

"Athos, it can't be her" he reasoned "she knows that you meant what you said, she won't return, not so soon anyway"

Athos didn't respond, after about a minute he nodded and began following the path Porthos had taken.

Left alone, Aramis decided to take a closer look around. A dagger had been left in the pool of d'Artagnan's blood. He lifted it with his sleeve covering his hand. There appeared to be nothing else of interest there, nothing that seemed like it could be a clue. He briefly scanned the alley one last time before turning his head and following Athos. He could tell d'Artagnan would need some stitches and he couldn't trust either of his friends to do a decent job.

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Ta da! second chapter :) please review, I really appreciate them (good or bad), hopefully the next chapter will be tommorow (i'm trying to do one per day)

Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks everyone for reviewing :) They made me so happy to read. This chapter is a bit longer (just a bit). Hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters/places/things from the musketeers

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d'Artagnan

d'Artagnan woke to an empty room. He sat up slowly, wary of the pain in his side. Examining the wound he saw that the stitching was impeccable. It must have been Aramis who sewed it which ruled out some of the less pleasant possibilities of his location. He gradually became aware of a muffled conversation from the other side of the door. The voices stopped and he heard footsteps fading away. They were soon followed by another set and then all was silent outside. He rose, again slowly but it still caused a stab of pain in his side.

Aramis

When they were finished sewing the wound, Porthos took d'Artagnan to his room in the garrison. They all reasoned that he would be safe there but they still decided to take watches in case whoever attacked him returned. On Aramis' watch he pulled a chair up outside the door and sat cleaning his pistols. It seemed like he'd been there for hours. Athos should have been there by now for his watch. No-one was going to enter the garrison anyway with all the musketeers there, it was far too risky. He'd just have to go find Athos himself. He rose and set off for the training area. d'Artagnan would be fine where he was. He'd be just fine. Aramis sighed and returned to his seat. He knew he wasn't fooling anybody, least of all himself. d'Artagnan was in no state to fight and the attacker could be anyone. They could already be in the garrison for all they knew. Aramis resigned himself to another hour of boredom.

Not long after, footsteps approached. Aramis drew his sword.

"Who's there? Athos?"

"Just me" Porthos called

Aramis sheathed his sword again. Confused as to why it was Porthos not Athos but grateful for relief from his post.

"Where's Athos? I thought it was his watch next" One look at Porthos' expression and Aramis suddenly feared the worst

"What happened? Is he OK?"

"Athos is fine, but..."

"What happened?" Aramis repeated, now extremely concerned.

"There have been more attacks. Six musketeers injured... one dead."

Whoever it was, they weren't just after d'Artagnan. Someone was after the musketeers. His first thoughts were the cardinal but this wasn't his style. These musketeers had somehow been taken by surprise; if the cardinal was involved then they'd all be dead. One was dead though. They'd all been too busy worrying about d'Artagnan to think that it could be part of something bigger. They were too late. A musketeer had died because of their stupidity. Aramis would admit that it scared him. The musketeers must have all trusted (or at least not feared) the attacker. That meant it could be anyone and they had no way of knowing. For the first time since finding it Aramis remembered the dagger that had been dropped when d'Artagnan was attacked.

"Has someone informed Treville?"

"That's where Athos is now. He won't be happy"

Aramis nodded. He would have to show the dagger to Treville, it could be important.

"Porthos, can you stay here with d'Artagnan?"

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going to search some of the places where the attacks took place, see if there's anything that could lead us to the attacker. Athos just asked me to tell you."

d'Artagnan would be fine on his own. By the sound of things, he wasn't in any more danger than the rest of them. Aramis didn't really want to leave him to awake alone but he couldn't see that there was much choice. Porthos had already gone. Aramis made his decision and started toward Treville's office, this time not returning.

Athos

Athos left Aramis to take first watch and returned to the training area with Porthos.

"We need to search that alley again. There may be clues as to who is responsible"

Porthos just nodded in response. He was obviously not in the best mood. None of them were. d'Artagnan had been attacked and they hadn't been there to stop it. Athos hoped he could remember something about the attack when he awoke. It may turn out to be a simple matter of asking him who it was. He sat down on the bench. It was probably no better here than it was taking watch. At least then he'd have a purpose. Now he was just sitting. Waiting.

This didn't last long. They had been sitting in calm silence for half an hour when a young musketeer charged through the entrance.

"Help, please! It's my friend, he was attacked. I don't know if he's-"

"Stay calm, tell us exactly what happened."

The next hour passed quickly. More breathless musketeers entered the garrison with reports of injured and dying musketeers. It total there were seven attacks. Athos had sent Porthos to find a physician. He arrived too late for the first musketeer's friend.

"Porthos, one of us needs to tell Aramis what happened, he's been there on his own for far longer than we arranged"

"God! I almost forgot he was still there. I'll go."

"I will inform Treville about the attacks. This is certainly something he needs to know. It may also be a good idea to search the scenes of all the attacks. We were planning on searching the alley anyway before..."

"I'll do it, shall we meet back here?"

Athos nodded, slowly.

"Make sure someone stays with d'Artagnan"

Then he turned away and climbed the stairs to Treville's office. He heard Porthos walking towards d'Artagnan's room. Alone, Athos took a moment at the top of the stairs to breathe slowly. He didn't want to show how much this had upset him. All of the attacks had been in broad daylight on skilled musketeers. Who was capable of doing this? He almost didn't want to find out.

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Thanks for reading, please review :)


	4. Chapter 4

Hi, thanks so much for the reviews. Its looking like this story is going to be very long, I've managed to make this chapter twice as long as the first (that's not really too hard considering) . Anyway, enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Musketeers

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Aramis

Aramis hurried up the steps to Treville's office. He could hear raised voices from inside and wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to interrupt. He knocked extremely lightly, nevertheless the voices stopped and he took this as a cue to enter. Both Athos and Treville looked worried.

"Who is watching d'Artagnan?" Athos demanded, staring at Aramis.

"Well, no-one is exactly watching but I thought-"

"You left him alone?! We have no way of knowing who is attacking musketeers or how and you have left d'Artagnan alone?!"

"Athos, the place is filled with musketeers, no one is going to get past" he smiled tentatively but Athos' stony expression didn't waver. "Look, I'm here because I think this might be important" he explained, handing the dagger that he'd found to Treville. Treville's reaction was not what he was expecting, though he wasn't sure what he **had **been expecting.

"This dagger cannot belong to the attacker." He said firmly. His tone implying that there was no room for argument. "If it does then they stole it. The crest on the handle belongs to the Breaux family. They all perished years ago."

It seemed they were getting no further explanation. Treville simply placed the dagger on his desk and stared at them. Athos and Aramis bowed and left. When they were out the door Aramis was the first to speak.

"What was all that about?"

"I don't know..."

It was strange. It was almost as if something about the dagger had scared Treville.

"Perhaps we need to do a little research on the Breaux family" Aramis said, looking over at Athos.

"Yes, I rather think we do."

Porthos

Porthos arrived in yet another dusty and deserted alley. This one was much the same as the others. They had all been absolutely devoid of any sort of clue. In one there had been a scrap of paper, presumably dropped by the attacker, but it wasn't at all helpful as it was covered in loads of muddy finger marks which obscured the writing.

There was something strange about each location. They had **all** been deserted alleys. That meant that whoever it was must have convinced or somehow lured the musketeers into them. It wasn't the common practice of the king's musketeers to lurk in dark alleys. Who would the musketeers trust? Their friends, of course, but Porthos was certain that it couldn't be musketeer. The red guards? No, no musketeer would trust any of the cardinal's men. Ah well, might as well head back to the garrison for now. There didn't seem to be anything useful here. A scrap of paper covered in finger marks and seven deserted alleyways. Treville would not be pleased.

d'Artagnan

d'Artagnan woke a second time, feeling much better than the last. This time he stood up and took a good look around. He smiled in relief as he noticed it was his own room at the garrison. He hadn't realised this the first time, he had been too concerned with his injury. d'Artagnan quickly grabbed his belt with his weapons still in that had been helpfully left on a chair beside his bed then left the room.

There was no-one around outside. He realised that the musketeers must all be training and he'd find them there. Although it was strange that no-one was there when he woke up. Had Athos, Porthos and Aramis not even thought that he might need an explanation about how he ended up with a wound in his side lying in his bed when the last thing he remembered was returning to the garrison after visiting Constance that morning?

Even the yard was virtually deserted when he reached it. A few forlorn looking musketeers were lounging on benches or leaning against posts but nothing like the bustling training area that it normally was at this time of day.

"d'Artagnan!" Aramis called

d'Artagnan spun around, Aramis and Athos were walking over from the other side of the yard.

"What are you doing up, shouldn't you still be in bed?"

"Well, seeing as you mention I just woke up to an empty room with no clue where I was and stitches in my side." d'Artagnan was still annoyed at the others for leaving him there.

"Rather finely done, too, though I say so myself" Aramis smiled at him. d'Artagnan just sighed, there was obviously more to be worrying about. Though he did still want an explanation.

"What happened, and... and where is everyone?"

"You don't remember anything?" Athos asked, frowning.

"No, no I... Anything of what?"

"You were attacked by... somebody, we're not sure who. As for where everyone is, six musketeers are injured, one is dead. It does tend to dampen the mood."

d'Artagnan nodded, still confused. Something Athos had said... He struggled to remember but he couldn't seem to.

"Well, what are we doing about it"

"We, young d'Artagnan" Aramis cut in "need to do some research, you coming?"

"Yeah, course."

Athos

"The Breaux family were powerful in their day. They had friends in high places." Athos mused, leafing through a large book.

"And enemies in high places it seems." d'Artagnan handed him the book he'd been reading. It was a list of public executions. It showed that Madame and Monsieur Breaux had been burned for witch craft quite a few years ago along with their teenage daughter, Mirabelle.

"That must be what the captain was talking about, he said the family perished, but I never thought he meant like that."

"Does it say any details on the matter?" Aramis asked, attempting to read the book over Athos' shoulder.

"Only that the execution was carried out by the musketeers"

"The captain was a musketeer at that time, you don't think it was him who...?" Aramis trailed off but they all knew what he was thinking. It was the captain who executed the Breaux family. That is why he was so dismissive earlier. He had been ordered to murder a young girl.

"That proves what he said then doesn't it, that the dagger doesn't prove anything?" d'Artagnan asked, he had been filed in on some of the more important details on the way to the library.

"It doesn't mean that the family hasn't survived, a distant cousin of Monsieur Breaux perhaps" Aramis suggested.

"Or a daughter" Athos held the book he had been reading previously. It listed four members of the Breaux family. Monsieur Breaux, Madame Breaux, Mirabelle Breaux and a second daughter, Melanie Breaux.

"Melanie and Mirabelle?" Aramis half whispered. He had gone pale suddenly.

"Yes, it seems Melanie somehow avoided execution..." Athos was gain looking through the list of executions, searching for Melanie's name.

"Melanie..." Aramis stared at the book with the list of names.

"You knew them?" Athos asked

"Oh, not really, not well anyway. I just, it's just that, well, Melanie never seemed the sort of girl to attack musketeers in dark alleys"

d'Artagnan frowned.

"I do remember!" he exclaimed "It was a girl! Well, a woman, who attacked me!"

Aramis stayed silent.

"Could you describe her to us?" Athos asked

"Not well, but, I think, I **think** she had blonde hair and she was quite short. I really can't remember much else, I'm sorry"

"Don't worry, that's fine" Athos said, laying down a picture of the Breaux family about a year before their execution. They all had blonde curly hair; Melanie was the shortest of them all. "She would be grown up now" he reasoned. "And she's have every reason to be angry with musketeers. They killed her whole family"

"It wasn't her" Aramis said.

"Aramis, I know you don't want to think that she'd attack people but you've got to think reasonably here."

"No, he's right" d'Artagnan said "It says here she died the night of the execution. A fire at her house... almost ironic."

Athos and Aramis glared at him.

"I mean because of her family and how she wasn't, you know, and..."

"Deeper hole, d'Artagnan" Aramis said levelly, but his sorrow was evident.

"Let's get out of here" Athos said, standing. "We haven't learned any more, we may as well get a good night's rest. Besides, Porthos will be wondering where we've been."

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I know this chapter was very calm, next chapter there'll be some action, I promise. Thanks for reading, please review :)


	5. Chapter 5

Hi :) sorry I didn't update yesterday but I was really busy. This chapter is the longest so far, and it's mostly from Aramis' point of view but there's a bit of Cardinal Richelieu cause I thought it was time for him to make an appearance. Thanks so much for the reviews, the descriptions seemed awesome, i have tried to be a bit more descriptive but that's never really been my strong suit... :( I think I gave up a bit halfway through, hopefully enjoy anyway :)

Disclaimer: nope, still don't own the musketeers :)

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Aramis

Aramis lay in his bed, staring gloomily at the ceiling. It was long after they had returned to the garrison and he knew the others must have fallen asleep by now but he couldn't seem to. It was all this about Mirabelle and Melanie. He had thought that he'd saved Mirabelle's life; it seemed he'd just prolonged it a few pointless hours. And Melanie... Melanie who'd always smiled at people she passed in the street, Melanie who hadn't stopped crying for hours when she accidentally crushed a spider beneath her foot, she had died too. He remembered when he first saw them he would always confuse Mirabelle for Melanie and vice versa, but then he'd got to know them better and realised he'd been foolish to ever mix them up. After a while he could tell them a mile off just by they walked, or by the way that Melanie started each sentence with 'listen' even when she already held the intended listener's full attention. They didn't deserve to die. No-one did, he supposed, but least of all Melanie and Mirabelle.

Before they had retired to their separate lodgings, Athos had pointed out that Melanie was not ruled out from the list of suspects. d'Artagnan's description was similar to the painting they had found in the library. Though it had been rather faded by then, and had seemed to be a much smaller copy of a full family portrait. Aramis remembered that Melanie always had been short for her age, the other children would sometimes tease her about it but she would just hold her chin high defiantly and point out that it could just be that they were all far too tall, and it wasn't her fault that she was surrounded by giants. She could have escaped the fire and fled Paris, perhaps even started it herself to cover her escape. Even if this were true, the attacker could not be Melanie. Aramis refused to believe that it could. Even so, Aramis did recall how distraught Melanie had been when her parents had been executed. She had attempted to slam the door in his face, fearing that he was a musketeer. She had always been so protective over her sister, always treating her like the younger sibling though there was barely ten minutes between them. Fussing over her when she tripped up and never letting her stray too far in the market. He knew that Melanie would want revenge against anyone who harmed her sister. But not like this, never like this. She knew that the musketeers were just doing their duty, that they would never hurt anybody without good reason. Although he had never found out what exactly it was that the Breaux family were condemned for. The official records would say witchcraft, but that was simply ridiculous. Their real crime would have been something different, something that the people didn't need to know. It perplexed Aramis; they had always seemed respectable members of the community. Aramis began to suspect that the Cardinal may have been involved, he had still been in power back then. He remembered when Ninon De Larroque had been tied to the stake and almost burned for witchcraft when her only crime was being rich enough to fund the treasury. He didn't want to think that it could have been a similar situation with Melanie and Mirabelle's parents. He hoped that Treville wouldn't blindly obey orders that lead directly to the death of innocent people. He had handed over their location in Savoy, but this was somehow worse. There was a world of difference between handing over documents and throwing the burning log onto the pyre. That would make him responsible for the murder of a 13 year old girl.

Except the 13 year old girl hadn't died had she? Aramis himself had pulled her from the burning logs when the assembled musketeers and red guards had left the family for dead. None of them wanting to stick around for the rest of the show. She had been unconscious from the fumes, he had feared that it was already too late but when he had pulled her away he could see the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to breathe. Then he'd taken her back to her sister, thinking it would be as simple as that. What if Melanie had been so desperate to protect her vulnerable sister that she thought wiping out the musketeers was the only way?

Aramis rolled over, now staring into the candle flame. He watched the flames dance and flicker. Thought of being tied up and helpless as the smoke rose up into your lungs and the flames burned your skin. He knew he should try to get some sleep, but he couldn't face the nightmares that sleep would surely bring. The others must all be asleep by now; they had seemed exhausted when they had returned. Porthos had reported that he hadn't been able to find anything at all anywhere he searched. They were returning to the locations again in the morning but it was doubtful that the search would be any more fruitful the second time around. d'Artagnan had seemed especially tired; he still needed to rest from his wound. Though he'd never admit it, Aramis could tell that it had been troubling him all day.

He hadn't been keeping track of how long he'd been lying there but is candle had burned down so much that the light faded suddenly, leaving Aramis staring into the darkness. When sleep came it was filled with dreams of burning houses and dead musketeers.

Cardinal Richelieu

Armand sat at his desk staring thoughtfully and the crinkled piece of paper before him. Whoever had written it had been in a hurry, ink splodges framed the writing, rendering some words unreadable but the intended message was clear. Melanie Breaux was alive and she had returned to Paris. Without bothering to glance up he raised a hand to beckon one of his red guards over to his desk.

"Sir" the guard said, standing smartly to attention.

There was a hint of a smile on the Cardinal's face but the impression it gave was far from one of happiness.

"Inform captain Treville that I have decided to assist him in this terrible matter of attacks on the musketeers, on the grounds that the perpetrator is handed to me for questioning when they are apprehended."

"Sir" The guard bow and turned to leave. When Armand was sure that he was out of earshot he spoke, seemingly to thin air.

"It looks like your lucky day" he said

"Is your informant sure that it **is **the girl?" a voice replied. It sounded hopeful, eager.

"Well, we'll just have to find out when she is caught"

"I have been disappointed before, Armand. This time we **must **succeed" A man stepped into the room from a door to the side. He wore a long dark cloak with a hood that hid his face but his powerful muscles were still all too easy to see. He lowered his hood and glared at the Cardinal, the left half of his face was disfigured by a scar that ran from his hairline to his chin, rendering him blind in that eye, over which he wore an eye patch. He drew a sword from beneath his cloak. This was not a thing of elegance like the musketeers carried. It was a cruel, curved weapon with a barbed tip and jagged edges. The handle was swathed in blood red velvet and the metal was stained with blood. This was not a weapon for duelling; it was made to serve the simple purpose of dealing out agonising death.

"I would feel more comfortable handling this case personally" he growled, baring his teeth.

The cardinal did not flinch at his attempts at intimidation.

"Do you not think that the captain would grow suspicious at your involvement? This must be handled officially; we cannot be seen to keep secrets. If Treville hears of our plans then all our work is ruined."

The man growled and slammed his fists down on the Cardinal's desk, the sword still held in one.

"You talk of power and influence yet you pussyfoot around this Treville and his pathetic band of musketeers as if they frighten you! Armand, if our plans succeed then you will no longer need to fear the musketeers; no one will be able to stand in your way! I say we deal with Treville quickly and get him out of the way. After all, if you want to make sure someone stays dead, you cut of their head. How will the musketeers cope without their esteemed leader?"

The Cardinal stared calmly at the man's scarred hands where they still lay on his desks. He hastily removed them. Armand looked up at the man before him and saw nothing but hatred in his eyes. There was no hint of weakness, yet there was also no hint of cunning or intelligence.

"You need my help, Évrard, so we will do things my way. If we kill Treville, where does that leave us? No, surely it is better to let the musketeers and my red guards do the work, they will deliver the girl to us and it will be seen as our duty to question her. We stick to the rules, Évrard, and we shall succeed this time. Oh, and that's Cardinal Richelieu to you. "

Évrard scowled, his brow furrowing as he comprehended the information. Then he spat on the polished floors and left, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Armand allowed himself a real smile once Évrard had left. That oaf thought that the Cardinal was assisting him (in exchange for a handsome sum of money), but it was very much the other way round. Despite his size and rather direct approach to such matters, Évrard was an expert at getting information. It was he who had first discovered that the Breaux family had the information. When they had refused to give it up he had thought that was the end of it. Melanie had escaped them at first, but now she had nowhere left to run.

Aramis

Aramis was sitting in the garrison, lazily eating his breakfast. He was still exhausted and fought to stifle a yawn when Porthos came to join him with his own bowl. They sat in silence; Aramis could guess that Porthos was wary of mentioning Melanie after how Aramis had reacted the night before. Soon Athos and d'Artagnan came to join them too, Aramis noticed that Athos didn't have his breakfast with him.

"No breakfast today, Athos?"

"I ate an hour ago, I wanted to take another look around where the attacks had taken place, I found something that I think you ought to see." His tone implied that he wanted them to hurry up so they could leave. He was obviously anxious to solve this case, he never liked not knowing and since this had involved d'Artagnan he had been especially determined to find out who had attacked him.

Aramis nodded, pushing his half-finished bowl away. He wasn't particularly hungry anyway, and Athos could be extremely impatient. Porthos stared at him in disbelief.

"You're not eating that?" he asked

"Not hungry" Aramis mumbled, attempting to gesture meaningfully towards Athos but Porthos just shrugged began to finish his own food.

Aramis looked and Athos apologetically but Athos simply smiled, waving his arm in d'Artagnan's direction to point out that the youngest musketeer had not yet finished and none of them were going to begrudge him a meal when he was still recovering from an injury. Athos stood as soon as they were finished, pulling d'Artagnan to his feet. Aramis grabbed his hat from the table before following them out of the garrison.

"I found footprints leading in and out the alley where d'Artagnan was attacked." Athos explained as they walked. "It could just be nothing, there were a number of footprints all over but these led right up to the spot where we found d'Artagnan." They reached the alley. "Here" he said, pointing out a trail of footprints. Aramis crouched down beside them, they were small enough to belong to a woman certainly and judging by the depth and the fact that they were slightly cracked from the heat in places, they had been made at the right time.

"So we follow them?" he asked the group.

"Can't see any harm in it" Porthos agreed

Aramis smiled, for a moment forgetting the reason for his sleepless night and enjoying the thrill of a mystery. The tracks led out into the now crowded street but hugged the wall tightly like whoever made them was trying not to be seen. They turned a corner onto a less popular street and began to run. Aramis found himself running too, mimicking their pattern. He followed them round another corner and found himself in the middle of a market. The trail was lost, covered by a stampede of other people and confused amongst the jumble of assorted feet. He looked round at Athos, who just shrugged slightly. Aramis looked around. This was exactly where he'd come if he was trying not to be seen. People milled about, visiting various stalls selling meat and materials. No-one would pay attention to another woman shopping for her husband. Then where would she have gone? She covered her tracks by walking through the market, but she must have come out somewhere. He sighed, there were about 50 different ways out of the market and there was no way of telling which she took.

"Looks like we're going back empty handed... again."

"No!" d'Artagnan shouted, attracting many confused stares from shoppers and from the musketeers themselves.

"Look, I'm disappointed too but I'm not sure you need to be quite so-" Aramis began but he was cut off by d'Artagnan.

"No! I mean, that's her!" He pointed through the crowd and Aramis followed his gaze. There she was. Years had passed but she still looked the same. Her blonde hair was wound in a tight bun and she was looking around, as if searching for someone. Aramis had to resist the urge to wave to her, half expecting a friendly smile in return. It took him a good five seconds to realise that the others had already taken off after her, he followed quickly. She turned when she saw d'Artagnan coming but didn't run. She just stood, whether in fear at being recognised or confusion he couldn't tell. He hoped it was the latter, still hoped that she could be innocent.

"Are you Melanie Breaux?" d'Artagnan asked, but in a way that made in sound more like 'You are Melanie Breaux'. This seemed to bring her back to her senses.

"Yes." She said "Yes, I am, what's it to you?"

"You're meant to be dead"

"And yet I am not, isn't that happy for everyone?"

"Not for the musketeers who you attacked, one of them is dead, do you think he is happy, Mademoiselle?"

"Dead?" she asked, this seemed to shock her, the colour drained from her face.

"Do you deny that you attacked these musketeers?"

"I..I..." She didn't seem to know what to say.

"Is the question to difficult for you Mademoiselle?"

Melanie seemed to come to a decision "No I do not deny it. It was me"

"Then you better come with us, to be tried for assault and murder"

"I... No... No I don't think I shall"

"Excuse me?" d'Artagnan asked, surprised. Aramis was surprised too, she had made no move to run away and had openly admitted to her crimes, yet she stated than she would not be going with them?

"I think that now is probably... probably the time for me to run away..." she mused, still speaking slowly, calmly. Barely moving at all. This is why what she did next came as such a shock. She brought her elbow forward, hitting d'Artagnan right in the place where he'd been stabbed. Then she ran.

"You can chase me" she called back "or help your friend, entirely up to you"

d'Artagnan gasped, clutching at his side. He staggered then fell to his knees. Blood had began to soak through his shirt.

"d'Artagnan!" Athos exclaimed, running to his friend's side, staring helplessly and the retreating figure of Melanie.

"Stay awake" he murmured to d'Artagnan. He stared at his friends, his eyes asking them desperately what they should do. Both Athos and Porthos seemed unwilling to leave d'Artagnan so Aramis made the decision for them.

"Stay with him" he said, and then he was running after Melanie. She had quite a large head start but Aramis was faster than her. He could still hear her footsteps ahead of him as he ran. She was twisting through alleys, turning sudden corners and doubling back on herself, trying to shake him off but Aramis was slowly gaining on her.

"Melanie!" he shouted "Stop, please!" to his great surprise she did stop. He had called out stop but not for one second had he expected to be obeyed.

"Aramis?" she was standing still as he turned the corner. Just staring at him. "It's really you, isn't it?"

He nodded, slowly. He'd always though she was kind as a child, but he'd never realised how beautiful she was. She just stood there, trusting him completely despite the fact that he was a musketeer attempting to arrest her. "I thought you'd have forgotten me" he said.

"Never. As long as I live." She took a hesitant step forward. He saw how shy she still was, how cautious. His mind couldn't put together the attacker and her as the same person, but she had confessed it herself right in front of him. He ran to her, lifting her in his arms and hugging her close.

"I can understand why you did it" he muttered "but that doesn't mean I can believe it" he lowered her to the ground and pushed her away. "It doesn't mean I can forgive it" he said, louder this time. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

"I... I..." she tried to force words out but they were blocked by a sob. Aramis ran his fingers through her hair.

"Shhh... it's alright" he whispered. He wanted to forget that she had hurt his friends, at least for a moment. When he thought about d'Artagnan, collapsing in pain on the floor he wanted to punish whoever was responsible. But he didn't want to punish Melanie. Tears threatened to fall from his own eyes but he blinked them away ferociously.

"It wasn't me" Melanie sobbed "Please, it wasn't me"

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Thanks for reading :) that really wasn't descriptive, was it? I'm too impatient to stop and look at things, I just start running :) I'll try again on the next chapter, one day I might get there, who knows? Please review :)


	6. Chapter 6

I said I'd try again with the description. I lied... I think the only adjective in this whole chapter is 'brown'...

Disclaimer: 'never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise'* Or in other words I don't own the musketeers

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Melanie

"It wasn't me" Melanie sobbed "Please it wasn't me"

Melanie realised her mistake immediately, she had risked so much to protect her sister, now she was just going to throw it all away? She had been willing to let the musketeers believe it was her, so why not Aramis? She knew why, of course she knew why. Just looking at him standing there now, his brown eyes filled with concern, she couldn't let believe that she was a... a murderer. The realisation of how serious this had become hit her hard and she fell to her knees. A musketeer had died!

"Then why-?" Aramis began; he looked confused but also strangely hopeful.

"Why did I say it was me?"

He nodded.

"Because I love my sister, and I can't let her get hurt again. It was her who killed the musketeers. After our parents died, after **she **almost died. You know the last thing she saw before passing out from the smoke was a musketeer. The musketeer who killed them. Do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you care about so much die, right in front of your eyes, and be powerless to stop it?"

"Yes"

"I mean, it's impossible to imagine how horrible it must have been for her to have to- wait, what do you mean 'yes'?"

"Yes, I know what it's like. I was on a simple training exercise in Savoy, we were attacked in the night and many musketeers were slaughtered in their sleep. My friend Marsac and I were the only survivors. I was wounded, early on, but Marsac watched the entire massacre. He wanted to kill the person responsible for the deaths of twenty musketeers. Even if it meant killing Captain Treville."

Melanie nodded, shocked. That was what had happened to Melanie. She had been so horrified, traumatised by their parents' deaths that she would stop and nothing to punish whoever did it.

"What happened to him?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, afraid that it would seal Mirabelle's fate.

"He's dead. I killed him." He stated simply, staring at her coldly.

"I am not killing my own sister." She said, and she wasn't She never would and she would kill anyone who tried.

"No, but you are turning her in. You are not safe; Mirabelle is believed to be dead. The musketeers all believe it was you who attacked them. You will be arrested and executed."

"I cannot turn her in. Even if it means dying I will not let anyone near her!"

"So you're just going to let her murder innocent people Melanie?! You're protecting and therefore you're allowing her to continue hurting people! The life of that musketeer is as much on your hands as hers."

Melanie took a step backwards. She knew what he said was right. She hadn't done anything to stop Mirabelle. She wasn't frightened of her, not exactly, but she couldn't see that there was anything she could do short of killing or seriously hurting her. She knew Aramis was right, but she was angry with him for implying that she should have killed her own sister.

"And it is as much on your hands as mine! You rescued her, are you saying you should have left her to burn?! Perhaps it would have been better for us all."

"Melanie, that's not what I meant, I'm sorry. But you do have to tell the musketeers the truth, you can trust them."

Melanie shook her head. She couldn't trust them because they would trust Treville and he would trust the king and the king would the cardinal and then they would have Mirabelle.

"It's better if I turn myself in. Then everybody's happy."

"I wouldn't be happy. Neither would you I can bet. And neither would Mirabelle, or the musketeers she would continue to attack, more when her sister wasn't there to protect her."

Again Melanie realised he was right but he wasn't right about giving up Mirabelle. He didn't know why her parents had been killed. He didn't know why she couldn't let the cardinal get his hands of Mirabelle, even if she'd wanted to.

"She knows too much." She said. Remembering back to the time when the red guards had come to her door, they had pulled them out of their house and locked them in the Bastille. Every day men would come and take them to be tortured. Melanie had not known at first what they wanted. She had cried and screamed but would never say anything because she didn't know that there was anything to say. Then she heard her parents talking when they thought she was asleep and she realised. When she was young, couldn't have been more than five or six, her aunt had lived with them. She'd always been kind and played with them, and she would teach them Spanish. Melanie had not even known at the time that it was because her aunt had grown up in Spain. She would occasionally hear the three of them (her parents and her aunt) talking in hushed voices when she was supposed to be in bed, but she'd never really though anything of it. Then one day her aunt had said goodbye to them and told them she was leaving for a while, but she'd be back soon. That was the last time Melanie saw her, but she'd never found out why. Until then. Her aunt had been a French spy in Spain. She thought this must be what the people wanted to know. The next day she heard her sister's scream and that made up her mind. She would tell the men everything she knew and they would let them all go. So she did, she told them everything about her aunt what she did, where she went. They had realised that this was truly all she knew and she had been allowed to return home. Her family hadn't been there. She asked them men where they were and he'd told her that they still needed to ask them a few questions, and they'd be home straight away after that. She'd waited. For weeks. No-one came to tell her. She had gone to the market to buy some bread, and someone had recognised her. She didn't even know their name and they knew before she did. They came up to her and asked 'hey, aren't you meant to be in the Bastille?' she had explained to him that she had been let out and she was just waiting for her family to join her. He'd just laughed, and told her that they weren't coming, that they were to be burnt.

"About what" Aramis asked, and it took her a few moments to remember what was going on.

"I do not know, she wouldn't tell me. She said if I knew, then I was in danger. But she said that it could start a war bigger than any there has been before."

"With all due respect" Aramis began and Melanie sighed, knowing that what came next wouldn't be in the least bit respectful or there would have been no need for the reassurance "but how do you know she was telling the truth."

"I know" she said. Her sister hadn't endured weeks of torture for nothing, besides, she could always tell when Mirabelle was lying.

"Aramis!" A voice called out, it was one of the musketeers from before, they'd found them!

Aramis

"Aramis!" A voice called out, it was Porthos. He almost instinctively called back to him but managed to stop himself.

"What do we do?" Melanie asked, looking terrified.

"If what you say is true then we cannot let anyone know about your sister. Not even Porthos, Athos and d'Artagnan." He looked around, checking that Porthos wasn't already there. "Where have you and Mirabelle been hiding? We need to get there."

"Aramis, you can't-"

"If you go on your own then you will never get away, I can't let anything happen to you. Where have you been hiding?"

"There's this abandoned cottage just outside the city, we've being staying there"

"OK, we should try and find a horse, if we can get back to the garrison without being seen, it's not far, then we can take mine ." he looked around again, he couldn't hear Porthos but that didn't mean he wasn't near, they needed to avoid open areas. He led the way through the endless alleyways until they came to the end of one which opened up near the garrison. "There's no other way, just run for it." Melanie nodded. "One, two, three!" He ran constantly checking back to make sure Melanie was following.

"Aramis!" Damn. It was Athos; he was sitting with d'Artagnan in the garrison.

Athos had pulled out his gun and it was aimed at Melanie's head. Aramis froze.

"Athos, please, don't shoot" he begged, desperately trying to think of a way to explain.

"Aramis, step away from her." Athos said, his pistol not wavering. Aramis stepped between him and Melanie.

"No."

"Aramis? What's going on?" Athos frowned.

"I couldn't find Aramis anywhere, I-" Porthos trailed off as he took in the scene.

"Athos, what are you doing?"

"Perhaps you should ask Aramis the same question."

Aramis couldn't think of any way he could explain this away without telling them about Mirabelle. He knew what he had to do but he'd put it off for as long as possible. They were out of time, he had to get Melanie to safety.

"I've been working with her." He stated. Athos lowered his gun for a moment in shock.

"You betrayed us?" Porthos asked, looking at him with an expression of deep hurt.

"Yes." Aramis said "And now we really must be going so if you don't mind" he began to move towards the stables but Athos raised his pistol again, this time aimed directly at Aramis' head.

"Aramis. She is a murderer, she almost killed d'Artagnan." Athos said but his arm was shaking slightly. "She still might" he added with a look at d'Artagnan who was now lying unconscious on the bench.

Aramis decided to take a chance, he knew (or at least hoped) Athos would never shoot him. He began again to walk towards the stables, staying between Melanie and Athos. He kept his gun aimed at Aramis but didn't make any move to shoot.

"Aramis" he warned but Aramis didn't stop. He through a blanket over his horse's back, not having enough time for a saddle and used a block to mount it, pulling Melanie up in front of him.

"Aramis, why?" This time it was Porthos who spoke, he didn't need to finish the question, Aramis knew what it was.

"She offered me a place in her bed" Aramis invented quickly "what was I supposed to do?" he tried to keep a cheerful smile on his face but he was fighting a losing battle so he quickly turned the horse away and urged it forward.

Athos

Athos watched as his friend's horse gained speed away from the garrison and threw down his pistol in frustration. He couldn't shoot him, of course. But this was almost worse than if he **was **dead. The friend they once knew was gone. Replaced by this traitor.

"_She offered me a place in her bed, what was I supposed to do?"_

"You were supposed to be a musketeer" Athos muttered at Aramis' disappearing horse.

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Hope you enjoyed :) I honestly will try with the description (honest) Please review :)

*quote from Alice in Wonderland


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks so much for the lovely reviews :) Not **much **happens in this chapter but I wanted to meet Mirabelle and check back in with Évrard and the cardinal. Enjoy :)

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Aramis

Aramis kept the horse at an even canter through the city. He was glad that Melanie couldn't see how close he was to crying. He concentrated on the way her ash blonde hair flowed in the wind, allowing himself a small laugh when a shrivelled leaf became entangled in it, for a moment taking his hand away from the horse's mane to brush it away. They didn't speak for the entire journey. Melanie seemed to realise that there were no words she could say that would be of comfort. He occasionally glanced behind as they rode, but no one was following them. He supposed he had Athos and Porthos to thank for that, they can't have gone to Treville yet. d'Artagnan would need his stitches redone, that must have been what they were waiting for. But he wasn't going to be there. Not this time. As they left the busy city Aramis urged the horse into a gallop.

"Tell me when we reach the cottage" he said. It was the first time he'd spoken in hours, and it came out sounding like he had a bad cough.

Melanie just nodded and began scanning the horizon for signs of the cottage.

"There!" she exclaimed after a few minutes, pointing to a derelict old cottage just off the road. Aramis gently brought the horse to a stop and dismounted, offering Melanie a hand down.

"**This **is where you've been staying?" he said in disbelief, looking at the broken down house, part of the roof had fallen through and the door was ripped off its hinges. Vines had overtaken the outside and begun to snake in through the doorway and smashed windows.

"So hard to find decent lodgings in the city now days, eh?" she said smiling. Aramis sighed and followed her in, taking care to avoid the broken glass that littered the floor.

"Who's he?!" A voice that sounded remarkably like Melanie's shouted, and Aramis suddenly found a knife at his throat. "You have five seconds to explain yourself, **musketeer**" She said the word with the same inflection one would use when saying 'maggot'.

"He's with me!" Melanie shouted, running forward and placing a hand on her sister's arm.

"You brought a musketeer into our house?"

"Mirabelle, it's not that simple, this is Aramis."

Mirabelle took a step backwards and it was possible for Aramis to look at her properly. He could see how d'Artagnan confused her for her sister, but Aramis never would. Both their hair fell in gentle curls at shoulder length, both had deep forest green eyes. Though when Aramis looked at Melanie's eyes they twinkled with life and happiness, Mirabelle's expression was cold and hardened. She appeared to consider him for a moment before sheathing her knife in her belt. As she did so Aramis noticed an empty place where a second dagger should have been, no doubt the one he had found.

"So you're a musketeer now?" She spat cruelly, it was more of an accusation that a question. "Don't bother trying to explain but I want you to know that I still don't trust you. You saved my life. I owe you for that but once that debt is repaid I owe you nothing." She turned away and began to climb the stairs. She spoke as she walked, not looking round as she did so "But listen **musketeer**, if you bring trouble to this door you can die in a ditch for all I care. So no running to your little musketeer buddies."

Aramis stared after her, momentarily shocked into silence. The change was so drastic that he wouldn't have believed she was the same girl. Mirabelle had always been even shyer than Melanie. She once cried because she hadn't had enough change for a loaf of bread she was buying. Melanie had to come and comfort her and pay the shopkeeper, apologising for her sister. She had been learning to be a seamstress the last he saw her, and now... this.

"I think she likes you" Melanie whispered with a smirk

The Cardinal

Évrard slammed the doors open and stormed across to Armand's desk.

"You imbecile Armand! See what happens when you let the musketeers interfere with **our **business?!"

The cardinal sighed. It was true that he hadn't expected a musketeer to betray their regiment, least of all Aramis, but it was more of a blessing than a curse. He would request that the red guards took over the investigation, when they brought back the Breaux girl and the traitor that would gain them great favour in the king's eyes. He wouldn't let Treville deal with it, not now that his precious musketeers had been proven to be untrustworthy. In time this little incident could lead to the end of the musketeers.

"Évrard, this changes nothing. The musketeer left the city on horseback; if we follow the tracks it will lead us straight to Mademoiselle Breaux's hideout." He said calmly.

"It better or someone's going to pay! Oh, and you're not leaving me out this time, I want to wipe the smile off that stupid traitor's face!"

"Oh, I'm sure you will." The cardinal said. "Was there anything else?"

Évrard snarled and marched back the way he had come, making sure the door made a particularly loud crash as it closed.

Athos

Athos sat in the musketeer's garrison. d'Artagnan was being sewn up by a physician. Not Aramis. Aramis was gone. How could he have done this? They were friends, more than friends, they were brothers. Then he left them all for a pretty girl. It wasn't like him to just sleep with any girl he saw. Well, actually, it was extremely like him but he'd never betray the musketeers for a murderer. But did he really know him anymore? How did he know that their whole friendship hadn't just been a lie? Perhaps he had never been their friend at all, he was just using them. Maybe he thought the ladies would prefer a musketeer. Athos was thinking all this to try and find a reason behind Aramis' actions but it wasn't true. They were inseparable, Aramis would lay down his life for them, and this wasn't like him at all. Aramis had been upset at the library; he recognised their names, defended Melanie. What if they had been closer than he'd thought? Even so... He stood up suddenly, he couldn't bear to just be sitting doing nothing but none of them had wanted to turn their friend in to Treville, it would mean admitting that it had really happened.

"Porthos, we need to speak to the captain"

Porthos looked up at him, for the past hour he had just been sitting staring at the floor. Athos wondered if that's what he had looked like.

"We can't, you know what would happen, he'd be killed."

This was true. Aramis would be hung as a traitor if he was captured but that's not what Athos had meant. Treville would find out anyway, the cardinal would find out somehow, and they would send someone after Aramis who wouldn't hesitate to shoot him on sight. They needed to speak to the captain to make sure it was them that went after him; they could speak to their friend, convince him to hand the girl over and return with them. Or, he thought, maybe a little too hopefully, they could find out his real reason behind helping this girl. No, if he allowed himself to think like that then it would only be more of a disappointment when it turned out not to be true.

"If we allow anyone else to handle this mission, he will be"

Porthos' eyes lit up with the realisation of what Athos was implying.

"Porthos, I don't want him dead but that doesn't mean I can believe he's innocent... yet."

"But, it's just not like him, we'll find him and he'll just be laughing at us for falling for his joke"

"Porthos..." In his head Athos agreed with Porthos but he couldn't say this out loud, the more they spoke about it the more they would believe it. God he wanted to believe it but it would only hurt more.

"Athos, Porthos!" d'Artagnan called, limping slowly into the garrison. He looked pale but he was smiling so that was a good sign.

"Where's Aramis?" he asked, puzzled. Athos froze. He didn't know yet, he really didn't want to be the one to tell him. He looked pleadingly at Porthos who seemed to get the hint.

"d'Artagnan, Aramis left... with Melanie. He told us he was helping her in return for a place in her bed."

"Well he was obviously lying, right?" he said confidently, his smile still in place. Athos looked over at Porthos and saw him smiling too. d'Artagnan had said what they were both thinking but wouldn't dare let themselves believe. To his surprise Athos found himself joining in. He dropped his smile quickly, this was serious.

"We'll have to wait to find that out" A lie, he knew now that he never truly believed Aramis was a traitor, he was still desperate not to let the others get their hopes up but Athos himself was a lost cause. "For now I think we need to talk to Treville"

Porthos and d'Artagnan nodded, still grinning like idiots and followed him up the stairs. They all stopped dead when they heard voices from inside. Captain Treville, and the cardinal!

Captain Treville

"The musketeers are more than capable of dealing with Aramis, and they know his fighting style better than anyone." Treville said, shocked at Richelieu's proposition.

"Nevertheless I have spoken to the king and he agrees it is best that the soldiers on this mission have no emotional attachments to the man they are being sent to kill." The cardinal said coldly

"My musketeers are professional; they will not fail in their duty!" Treville insisted

"Can you honestly tell me that when faced with their best friend Athos, Porthos or d'Artagnan would be able to pull the trigger? That any musketeer would shoot Aramis when they had to."

Treville fell silent. What the cardinal had said was right. The musketeers couldn't kill Aramis no matter what he had done. Deep down he knew this was why he was so determined that it was them who were sent. He didn't believe that Aramis would betray them.

"I am sure that-"

"What you are sure about is of little significance to me, this is a letter signed by the king stating than as of now the red guards are in charge of this case, and that the musketeers have been stood down for the duration."

Treville knew without looking that the letter was authentic. Richelieu was a cruel man but he wouldn't stoop to forgery of the king's own signature. There was no argument. Reluctantly he nodded.

"I shall inform the men"

"Be sure that you do" The cardinal swept out of the office, a smug smile on his face. When Treville was sure he was gone he punched the wall angrily. This could not be happening. He turned to the open door to see Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan glaring at him in the doorway.

"Aramis will die." Athos stated, turning back down the steps. Porthos scowled and followed him. d'Artagnan remained for the longest, sending the captain an almost apologetic glance before joining the others.

Aramis will die. The sentence echoed in Treville's head accusingly. Aramis will die.

Not if he had anything to do with it.

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Thanks for reading, please leave a review :D


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry that this took so long and is really short :( I've been really busy over the last few days but I should get back to a chapter per day now. Hope you enjoy :)

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Athos  
Athos sat in the half deserted garrison, staring at nothing in particular. They had been given a direct order to remain where they were and not interfere with the red guards on their mission to find Aramis. And so their friend would die. He would take a few red guards with him, Athos was sure of that, but then there would be more and he was on his own. On his own because of... what? Why had he left? Why had he lied to them? Had he lied to them? Yes, he must have. He was their brother and he was alone. He unconsciously reached for a glass in front of him and to his great annoyance found there was none. It was probably for the best, getting so drunk he couldn't remember his own name may solve his problems for a few hours but it wouldn't do anything to help Aramis. Nor would sitting here. He heard footsteps approaching behind him but didn't turn. He didn't want to face Treville, not now after he abandoned Aramis.  
"Where're Porthos and d'Artagnan?" The captain asked "Never mind, I just wanted to tell you that as of now you are on leave"  
"I'm afraid I shall have to disagree captain, now is not time for us to be taking a holiday" Athos replied lazily, his mind elsewhere. Imagining despite his best efforts various ways in which Aramis could be killed.  
"Athos, what you do on leave is your business; perhaps you could take a short trip outside of Paris?"  
"Sir we will not be leaving when Aramis is in danger" He replied angrily. They may still be able to go, they could talk to the cardinal, beg him to let them, prove that they could do it. Images of Aramis dying alone threatened to flood his mind.  
"But Aramis is a traitor is he not?" Asked Treville. Athos scowled at him, disregarding the fact that he was the captain. So he believed Aramis deserved to die, did he? And he wanted them to go on holiday and allow their friend to be murdered. In his head he still saw Aramis bleeding on the floor in a circle of snarling red guards.  
"Athos, you must understand. You could leave Paris, I wouldn't need to know."  
Well of course he wouldn't, Athos thought, confused. But that didn't change the fact that he was not going on a stupid holiday now of all times. It was a wonder he was capable of even this coherence. In his mind Aramis was screaming in pain as a red guard stamped his foot down on Aramis' wounds. Something niggled at him from the back of his mind but Aramis' screams drowned it out.  
"I will be in my office if you change your mind"  
Athos had stopped listening to the captain. He had heard the words but hadn't comprehended most of them. In his mind Aramis' scream was cut off suddenly but a bullet in his head. The captain stared at him for a few moments then shook his head and left. It was a good 5 minutes after Treville had closed his office door that the metaphorical penny finally dropped.

Treville  
"But Aramis is a traitor, is he not?" Treville asked, testing Athos' reaction. The man couldn't be such a fool as to believe it, could he? He was still worrying about Aramis. Athos merely scowled. Well, he had been expecting more than that. At least an insult. It seemed Athos was more worried than he liked to admit.  
"Athos, you must understand" he said, attempting to get through to the musketeer who was now staring blankly into space. "You could leave Paris, I wouldn't have to know" he hinted, silently begging the man to understand his meaning. Nothing changed on Athos' face, no sudden flash of realisation.  
"I will be in my office if you change your mind" he said, staring at Athos who was now frowning. He thought he saw Athos physically wince, still deep in thought, and knew there was not much hope at the moment. He shook his head in despair and turned towards his office. He hoped he might have more luck with Porthos. Aramis needed his friends if he was going to survive.

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Thanks for reading :) sorry again about the length, please review (except not to say that it's too short, that would just be mean :P )


	9. Chapter 9

Apologies in advance for my probably completely inaccurate Spanish. Aramis doesn't feature in this chapter but I promise he'll be back in the next. :)

Also I noticed that I'd been capitalizing d'Artagnan wrong, I think it's sorted out now. Enjoy :)

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d'Artagnan 

d'Artagnan once again found himself lying helplessly on his bed. The stitches hadn't been as neat the second time round without Aramis. He remembered what Athos had said to Treville. _Aramis will die. _He had sounded so certain that d'Artagnan was starting to believe it. His friend would be killed by the red guards and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Even if they had been allowed, d'Artagnan had to admit that he wouldn't be much good in a fight right now. One elbow in the stomach was all it took to take him down. He groaned and rolled over. Porthos and Athos could save Aramis, he could help them out after a quick sleep...

Porthos

The bottle in front of Porthos was empty. He assumed it must have been full at some point but he couldn't seem to remember when. Another bottle sat beside it, half empty. Or half empty. No, that wasn't right. The bottle was half empty or half empty. It didn't seem to have a ring to it. Full! The bottle was half full! Well, he'd soon sort that out. Porthos took a large gulp from the bottle and laid it heavily back down on the table. For a moment he wondered why Aramis wasn't with him. Then he remembered why he was here in the first place. Hah! Couldn't go after him. The other people, the red... people, they would go after him. They were the cardinal sin or something... The cardinal**'s** sin. Men! And they wouldn't be very happy when they found him. They would most likely kill him or something. Hah! No... not hah. That would be bad, very bad, some may even say awful. Got to leave now, save Aramis. Porthos made it three steps towards the door before falling face first onto the wooden floor.

Athos

"Treville!" Athos called, hurrying towards the captain's office. "What time do the red guards depart?"

Treville stared at him, his face blank but Athos was sure he saw a hint of relief.

"You know I cannot tell you that, the cardinal is afraid that you may decide to disobey orders."

"I have changed my mind about leave sir, Porthos, d'Artagnan and I will be leaving Paris shortly, I am simply inquiring as a civilian, we do not wish to run into them on our way out of the city."

"I am glad to her that you've changed your mind but I truly cannot give you that information. On an unrelated matter, it may be wise to take your holiday at some point before midday tomorrow."

Athos nodded. That was very soon. He wondered if d'Artagnan would be well enough to ride by then, let alone fight. However it seemed they had no choice. The red guards would leave whether the musketeers were ready or not, so they were going to be ready.

Athos arrived at d'Artagnan's room and knocked gently on the door. He was met with an annoyed groan and the sound of something (or more likely someone) falling to the floor. He opened the door in a rush, not bothering about politeness and rushed to d'Artagnan's side.

"d'Artagnan, what happened, are you alright, did you tear your stitches?"

"No, fell off the bed" d'Artagnan mumbled sheepishly and Athos sighed in relief. Despite this false alarm, d'Artagnan did not look well. Certainly not well enough to ride by midday tomorrow.

"The red guards leave at midday tomorrow" he stated simply, waiting for the young musketeer's own reaction before making any suggestions.

"Then we should leave at dawn, we need to get a good head start but it would be foolish to start before it is light." d'Artagnan rambled on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had not long ago been unconscious from a dagger wound.

"d'Artagnan, Porthos and I will be leaving at dawn. Perhaps it would be best if..." he trailed off, letting d'Artagnan finish the sentence for himself. He knew the boy would object but they couldn't risk him re-opening his wound. It had been bad enough the second time in the market but if they were riding miles away from Paris then it could be very serious.

"No, I won't leave Aramis. He needs us. I can't fight but I can still help." He insisted and Athos knew there was no argument; there never was when d'Artagnan was in a mood like this.

"Then we better find Porthos" he sighed, knowing that it would not take that long to locate him "Before someone else does" he added. Porthos had a tendency to get overconfident when he was drunk. Well, more than he usually was anyway.

Porthos

Porthos opened his eyes blearily and blinked a few times to make sure that they **were **open. He was staring at blackness. As he became more aware of the world around him he realised that this was because he was staring into the floor. He was anxious about what he'd find when he turned over. He slowly turned, he eyes again closed. He opened them slowly to find himself staring at an upside down grinning face. Grinning was definitely a bad sign. He tried to sit up but found the grinning man's foot on his chest, keeping him down. He groaned.

"Wha' d' you wan'?" he asked, still not fully conscious. The man continued grinning and stared down at him.

"¿Como te llamas?*" the man demanded, still grinning. The alcohol was still slowing Porthos' thoughts, he recognised that the man was speaking Spanish but couldn't translate the words.

"¿Hablas espanol?**" The grin dropped for a moment and the man frowned. Porthos struggled to remember how to string together a sentence. He could remember a few individual words and tried some.

"Francés, ¿Dónde?, ¿por qué?, ¿quién? ***" he babbled, vaguely aware that he wasn't really making any sense.

"You speak Spanish not well?" He questioned. Porthos nodded gratefully and the man waved a hand at someone on the other side of the room. Another man walked over. He definitely wasn't grinning. Porthos didn't know if this was better or worse.

"What is your name?!" He demanded and the message was all too clear this time. He had been captured. Great. But it didn't seem that these men knew he was a musketeer yet.

"Francis" he answered "Francis Du Vallon" He hadn't had enough time to make up a convincing last name but hopefully they wouldn't notice. Most people just knew him as Porthos. He smiled in what he hoped was an innocent way.

"Are you a rich man Monsieur?" He asked, the grinning man whispered something to him in hurried Spanish "Perhaps it would be more accurate to say, are your friend's rich men Monsieur?" Porthos didn't react to this, he had been expecting it. He remembered what Aramis said 'surprise is everything'. They obviously assumed he was a rich, drunk gentleman. Most people assumed the opposite but these people were not paying attention to details. Well, no point in disappointing.

"I demand that I am released immediately!" he said in his best imitation of a gentleman's accent, mostly picked up from Athos. Both men laughed. Perfect, the more they thought he was helpless, the bigger the surprise would be when he suddenly sprung his attack. He carefully suppressed the thought that he probably **was **rather helpless with his hand tied behind his back and a man standing on his chest.

Athos

Athos confidently strode into the inn where Porthos could usually be found.

"Porthos!" he called out. The casual chatter in the bar didn't halt but one man turned to him.

"You a musketeer?" he asked

"Yes, I am looking for my friend Porthos, has he been in here?"

"There was a musketeer in 'ere, 'e passed out 'bout an hour ago, some men took 'im away, I assumed they were 'is friends"

"You assumed wrong" Athos said, scowling. This complicated matters a bit. He realised the man was holding his hands out expectantly. Athos pressed a few coins into them and thanked the man before returning to d'Artagnan who was waiting outside, leaning against the wall.

"It seems Porthos has managed to get himself captured." Suddenly their midday deadline seemed more unreachable than ever.

* * *

* What is your name?

** Do you speak Spanish?

*** French, where?, why?, who?

Thanks for reading, please review :)


	10. Chapter 10

Next chapter complete! I think that from now on I will be posting every other day, hope thats okay :) I apologise again for my awful spanish, enjoy :)

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Aramis

"You know that they will send people after us" Melanie said, not drawing her gave away from the window.

"If it is Porthos, Athos and d'Artagnan then we will be fine, and I'm sure they would have hurried to volunteer for this one." He replied, he still felt awful for lying to his friends but he knew they'd forgive him. They were brothers; they wouldn't abandon him over something like this. A small part of him wondered what they would have done if he really had betrayed them but he decided it wasn't really worth contemplating as he would never do that.

"What if it isn't them? What if Richelieu sends the red guards?" Melanie asked

"Treville would never allow that." He said. Treville must know him well enough to know he'd never abandon the musketeers; he wouldn't let Richelieu take charge.

"I know that Aramis, what if he does?" She asked persistently

Aramis looked at her. She was still staring out the window. He insistent questioning was starting to get annoying.

"Then we will fight them off"

"Aramis... I'm scared"

He looked closer at the small girl by the window. Her voice shook and she had her cloak wrapped tightly around her. He was stupid! Why hadn't he realised how afraid she was. He was so used to being in situations like this surrounded by musketeers and he hadn't thought what it must be like for Melanie.

"Melanie, I won't let **anyone **hurt you. You know that don't you? If they want to get near you, they'll have to come through me first but that's never going to happen because I will kill a thousand men rather than let it happen. Melanie I lo... I care about you. As long as I am here you are safe, do you understand?"

Melanie nodded but her body shook with sobs, Aramis ran to the window and held her in his arms.

"It's alright" he whispered "I've got you"

Athos

"Whoever took Porthos doesn't know who he is, that means they're not from around here." Athos told d'Artagnan as they walked.

"How do you know that?" he asked

"It was unplanned, I'm sure. They couldn't have known he would be there at that time. They must have just seen him as an easy target, assumed he had rich friends who would pay for his freedom"

"Okay, but that doesn't bring us any closer to finding out where they are"

"Maybe not for now..." Athos muttered, not really concentrating. The sun was peeking up over the buildings, midday was gradually drawing closer. If they couldn't find Porthos in time...

Porthos

Keep them talking, Porthos thought. The more they talked the more careless they'd become, letting things slip about their location, how many men there were.

"My friends will not be happy; they are powerful people you know." He said, still trying to keep a gentlemanly tone of voice.

"Good" his captor said "Powerful means rich. Tell me more about these friends of yours, where might they be found?"

"Why should I tell you that?" He questioned

"We need to get a little message to them..."

"Would this be along the lines of 'give us two thousand livre or your friend dies'?" He asked, smiling.

"Not as stupid as you look" the man smiled "But I suppose it wouldn't take a genius to work that one out"

The door at the far end of the room swung open and the grinning man from before entered. He certainly wasn't grinning now.

"Musketeers, que quieren saber acerca de nuestro amigo aquí. Él no es quien dice ser. Su nombre es Porthos de los musketeers del rey.*" Porthos couldn't understand most of what they were saying but he heard his own name and 'musketeers'. They'd found out who he was.

"¡Idiota! ¡Ellos vendrán por él!**" The second man shouted at his accomplice, to Porthos he said. "Monsieur Porthos, there appears to have been a misunderstanding, you are free to go."

"Just like that?" Porthos asked, surprised, letting his posh accent slip.

"It appears you were right about your friends, we cannot have them finding us here."

"So you're just going to let me go?"

"Deberíamos matarlo***" The grinning man interjected, once again grinning.

"Está usted en lo correcto. Pero no podemos decir que****" The second man whispered frantically.

Porthos didn't know whether it was good or bad that the only thing he had understood out of their whole conversation was 'kill him'. He decided to go with good because when the grinning man drew his sword he was ready and rolled out of the way of the strike which would have otherwise sliced his head clean off.

Athos

"There were no hoof prints" d'Artagnan said suddenly. They had been walking round almost in circles without either of them saying a word for a while and Athos wondered for a second what he was on about.

"So they couldn't have gone too far" he agreed "But haven't we checked everywhere near the inn?"

"We didn't check the actual houses" d'Artagnan pointed out.

"Yes but we can't just barge into people's homes without a good reason."

"Finding Porthos isn't a good reason"

"You know I don't mean that. I mean it would technically count as trespassing unless we were certain that they were there."

"Can we at least go back? Perhaps the people will know something. Maybe some people have moved in just recently."

Athos considered this. It couldn't hurt to check. Though he doubted they would be able to rent or buy a house if they needed to kidnap Porthos for the ransom money. They hadn't wandered too far and soon they were again outside the inn.

"Where do we start?" d'Artagnan asked. Athos wasn't listening; he heard a shout that he'd recognise anywhere coming from inside the inn. He sighed.

"Where's the one place we didn't think to look?" he asked angrily, already running into the inn towards the shout. "You stay here!" He called to d'Artagnan as the injured musketeer went to follow him, he didn't want him tear his stitches again. Not least because it would ruin all their hopes of riding by midday. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword slicing through the air and a body falling to the floor. Please don't let it be Porthos, he though desperately. He vaulted over the bar where he found, as expected, a trap door leading don into the cellar. He flung it open and slid down the ladder, drawing his sword and running towards the centre of the dark room. Suddenly an arm wrapped around his throat and pushed him up against the wall.

Porthos

Porthos took advantage of his assailant's surprise at his quick reaction to stand. He was unsteady as his feet were tied but they hadn't thought it necessary to tie them too tight so he could walk but not run. The man brought his sword swishing down again but Porthos dodged it easily. However the other man caught him with a fist in the stomach and he cried out, losing concentration for a minute. The man swung his sword a third time, this time Porthos thought quickly and he turned so that the sword sliced through he ropes that bound his wrists together, however it also unbalanced him because of the ropes around his ankles and he collapsed to the floor. The grinning man laughed and pointed the tip of his sword at Porthos' neck.

"Adios"

A sudden noise from above their heads distracted the men. Porthos kicked the man's leg and stood up again, a satisfied smile on his face as the pal of his hand slammed into the grinning mans jaw and he staggered backwards before falling unconscious to the floor. He grabbed the man's sword as he fell and turned quickly, smashing the hilt against the other man's head and he too fell unconscious. Porthos paused for a moment to untie his ankles then began looking for a way out. It looked like he was in some kind of cellar. Light flooded into the room from a square in the ceiling and a man slid down into the room. Probably another one of those men's accomplices. Porthos sunk quietly into the shadows and grabbed the man as he ran past, slamming him against the wall.

"Porthos?" The man asked and Porthos immediately realised that it was Athos. He released him quickly, apologising.

"I'm just glad to find you alive" Athos said. "We have to leave."

"Why the hurry?" Porthos asked. He'd just escaped from being held captive (admittedly by rather unskilled armatures but it still counted) and Athos wanted to go rushing off?

"Have you forgotten what led you to the inn last night Porthos?"

Porthos didn't want to admit it but he had. A combination of alcohol, head wounds and his Spanish friends had temporarily wiped thoughts of Aramis from his mind but they were now returning with extra pointy edges. He groaned.

"I really hope you have plan Athos"

"Of sorts. We need to leave before midday or the red guards will beat us there. Aramis is in danger unless we can reach him first"

Porthos nodded. That made enough sense.

"Where's d'Artagnan?" he asked

"I asked him to wait upstairs. He is still injures and I though fighting may be required. However you seemed to have dealt with that perfectly well on your own.

"And what's the plan once we find Aramis"

"Prove his innocence and return to Paris without the need for any fighting." Athos stated.

Porthos laughed. "What d'you reckon the chances of that are then?"

* * *

*Musketeers, they want to know about our friend here. He is not who he claims to be. His name is Porthos of the king's musketeers.

**Idiot! They will come for him!

*** We should kill him

**** You are right. But we can't say that.

thanks for reading :) I've run out of easter chocolate now so I need reviews for fuel :)


	11. Chapter 11

Cardinal Richelieu

Richelieu carefully surveyed the assembled men. They all stood smartly to attention beside their horses. He had decided to take thirty men, the only trained fighter they would encounter was Aramis and even he couldn't defend himself against thirty men at once. He had given his men permission to use lethal force against Aramis. No-one cared if a musketeer traitor died, what mattered was the girl. He addressed the guards.

"Remember your mission; Melanie Breaux is to be captured **alive**. The musketeer Aramis is of little importance, bring him back alive or dead."

"Dead would be preferable" Évrard cut in from beside him. He didn't argue, he secretly agreed. He didn't know how much Melanie would have told Aramis but anything was too much. He guessed they had about two hours until midday.

"Prepare to leave" he said, watching in satisfaction as his orders were carried out, he waited until all the red guard had mounted their horses "Move out"

The horses galloped away across Paris towards where they now knew Aramis and Melanie to be hiding. They shouldn't have to worry about Athos, Porthos or d'Artagnan for at least another hour. By the time they caught up with them Aramis would be dead and the Breaux girl would be on a cart to the Châtelet.

Aramis

"Could anyone have followed you here?" Mirabelle asked sharply.

Aramis stayed silent. They could and he knew it, they were in too much of a hurry to get away and he hadn't even thought about covering his tracks. However a combination of the murderous look in Mirabelle's eyes and the terror in Melanie's lead him to keep this fact to himself.

"Could anyone have followed you here?" she repeated

"No" he said "No-one knows where we are" he knew that this lie would be discovered when soldiers rode up to the doorstep but with any luck it would just be his friends and he could explain the situation to them. He hadn't wanted to back at the garrison where people could hear, or where they could easily tell Treville before hearing the full story. Out here he could take time to fully explain why they couldn't tell anyone, and why they needed to get Melanie and her sister out of France.

"You better be right or you are dead. The moment I see a soldier within five miles of this place my dagger is in your heart, understand?"

He nodded because that was easier than pointing out that he had his sword, dagger and pistol and was almost definitely far more skilled than her. He knew it was only a matter of time before the musketeers arrived and he hoped he wouldn't be having to fight Mirabelle off whilst he waited for them. Besides, he doubted Melanie would forgive him if he injured her sister, and he was rather enjoying having her huddled in his arms.

Athos

"Everything alright?" Athos enquired, peering at his friends. Now that they were away from the gloom of the cellar Athos could see the dark purple bruise that had formed on the side of Porthos' head.

"Fine" they chorused, smiling faintly at the coincidence.

"Then we must prepare to leave. There's only one hour left until midday, we need to make sure we have a head start on the red guards."

The other two nodded solemnly in reply. Athos noted with concern that d'Artagnan winced as he mounted his horse. Once they were all settled Athos urged his horse forward and the others followed close behind him. They had to reach Aramis before the red guards, they **had **to. He wouldn't even allow himself to think about the alternative. A small voice berated him in his head, telling him that they shouldn't be riding, that d'Artagnan was too badly injured and that Porthos could have concussion. But he ignored it. He knew that it wasn't the wisest decision but who had time for wise when Aramis' life was in danger?

Aramis 

Aramis woke up before he realised he'd fallen asleep. Melanie still lay in his arms, her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow. He laid her gently on the floor so as not to wake her and glanced around the room. Mirabelle lay on the floor not far away, her dagger in her hand even in sleep. As Aramis stood he began to wonder what had woken him. Then as his mind rose fully out of sleep he heard the distant hoof beats. He rushed to the window. There were more than thirty of them out there, he couldn't make them out clearly but now he sure that they weren't musketeers. This was bad, worse than bad. He knew it was his own mistake that lead them here. If Melanie and Mirabelle died it would be his fault. Mirabelle leaped up suddenly with a yell that woke Melanie too. She waved her dagger dangerously close to Aramis' face and snarled.

"You brought them here! You led them here! I'll kill you!" She lunged forward towards Aramis who took a shocked step backwards.

"No, Mirabelle!" Melanie screamed, throwing herself in-between Mirabelle and Aramis.

Mirabelle glared at Aramis, not lowering her dagger but stopped her frantic attempts at attack.

"I'm going upstairs" she said evenly "There is a gun there, I'm going to take out as many of them as I can as soon as they're close enough. Don't even think about joining me. If I see you again I swear I will kill you. I don't care if you die today; I only care about Melanie and myself. You let her be harmed and you'll wish you **were **dead. When I run out of ammo I am going down into the cellar with Melanie, it will be reasonably safe down there if they don't know that's where we are. But you are staying up here and fixing the best you made."

Aramis nodded, he supposed that seemed fair. He knew he could help her upstairs but angering her would only put Melanie in more danger. The hoof beats grew gradually louder as the red guards approached and Mirabelle ascended the stairs. Aramis felt Melanie's hand grasp his tightly.

"It will be alright" he assured her "I'm here" he neglected to point out that it was this that put her in danger in the first place. He knew that would be of little comfort to her.

"I know" she whispered "I'm not scared now... I just... I just want you to promise to stay safe, alright? Don't do anything stupid."

"Protecting you is not stupid."

"Dying for me is."

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You've probably noticed that I'm planning on Aramis and Melanie getting together, I'd really love to know your thoughts on that before it happens So as always thanks for reading and please review :)


	12. Chapter 12

Here it is, finally. Enjoy :)

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Porthos

Porthos was almost certain that the world wasn't **meant **to be spinning. The landscape swirled past like his horse was standing still and the landscape was morphing around him. The side of his head throbbed where it had hit the floor of the inn. He was so sleepy. That was rather strange as he must have spent a lot of time asleep (unconscious, but was there really much difference?) in that cellar. So why was he struggling to keep his eyes open now? The gradually began to droop and he allowed them to close for a second before opening them again, quickly, hoping that Athos hadn't noticed. He concentrated on staying awake, on riding forwards. Though he couldn't be entirely sure which direction **was **forward at this precise moment in time. He opened his eyes. Wait, that was wrong, he'd never closed them, had he? He shook his head, trying to clear it and thought of their goal, they had to reach Aramis in time. He opened his eyes again, the landscape had changed drastically, he was certain there had been a forest to left just a moment ago. Then he didn't open his eyes. The last thing he heard before he welcomed the darkness was someone yelling his name.

Athos

Athos rode straight on. He didn't change his pace for a minute. Determined that they **would **make it in time. There was no choice to the matter. He risked a glance at his companions. Porthos looked tired, this had to be a bad sign, and d'Artagnan was clutching at his side whenever he thought no one was watching. The irrational part of Athos' mind, the part that said they had to reach Aramis at **all **costs, including leaving his brothers where they fell from their horses, said that he should just ignore them and keep on riding. The rational part told him that sacrificing one friend for the goal of saving another was not the best choice he'd made. But rationality went out the window when Aramis left them, supposedly betraying them. So he continued on, deciding to look straight ahead rather than let his guilt grow worse by seeing his friends in pain. However, he was concerned for Porthos and d'Artagnan which made him jump and whip his head round at every slight noise. Just when he was about to suggest stopping to find a place to rest, he heard a thud from beside him.

"Porthos!" he yelled, yanking his horse's reigns desperately causing it to rear up wildly, almost throwing him off. He leaped to the ground and ran to crouch by Porthos' side. He was overcome with guilt when he saw his friend lying unconscious on the round but luckily he didn't seem to be injured. Then he heard d'Artagnan's yelp from behind him to see the youngest musketeer also lying on the ground. He sighed, but not out of annoyance with Porthos and d'Artagnan but with himself. If they had waited before setting off then they may still have reached Aramis in time. But he had to rush off, didn't he? They would never make it now. He gently shook Porthos' shoulder and Porthos opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden light. Behind them d'Artagnan was back on his feet and limping over.

"Is he alright?" the boy asked Athos

"Ask him yourself" he mumbled. Porthos raised himself up on one elbow and looked in puzzlement at the two concerned faces.

"'m fine, must've just...I'll just, just get up on my, my... Gotta... gotta get to 'rmis!" he said, seemingly unaware of what little sense he was making. "c'mon, what we waitin' for?" he sat up suddenly, pushing the ground to try and help himself up. He tried and failed a few times to get to his feet and collapsed back to the ground, his eyes closed.

"What are we going to do?" d'Artagnan asked. Athos just shook his head. They had failed Aramis, all because of his own stupidity. He cried out and punched the ground in anger.

Aramis

The hoof beats had slowed dramatically as they neared the cottage. The riders were obviously wary of approaching despite the fact that they **knew **its sole protector was a single musketeer. A shot rang out and Aramis jumped, grabbing Melanie close and checking that she hadn't been hit. When he heard the second shot he was looking out the window so he saw the red guard fall and knew he was dead before he hit the ground. Okay, maybe not its **sole **protector.

"Go down to the cellar" he told Melanie "They'll be here soon"

Melanie looked for a moment as if she was about to protest but nodded and walked towards the trapdoor. Aramis drew his sword and faced the door, listening carefully as the guards dismounted and footsteps replaced the hoof beats. The first man flung open the flimsy door and it crashed to the floor, Aramis slashed his sword across the man and returned to his guarding position without bothering to check if the man was alive or dead. Then the horde arrived. There wasn't a much better way to describe it. The red guards swarmed forward with no apparent care for their own safety, at least six fell before one managed to get a hit in, slicing his sword across Aramis' arm. He took advantage of Aramis' distraction and lunged forward; Aramis blocked the blow but was forced to take a step backward. He heard a pistol being cocked behind him and ducked before the shot was fired that went directly through his former opponent's heart. He turned his head briefly to see Mirabelle standing behind him. He shot her a grateful look which was met with her usual cold expression. He remembered just in time that he was in the middle of a fight and whipped round to face the next red guard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mirabelle pick up a discarded sword and join the fight. It was more difficult than he'd anticipated fighting in such an enclosed place. And considering he had never expected to win in the first place, his odds were not looking good. He ducked under another sword aimed at his neck and blocked another blow from the right. He realised that he'd stepped quite far back from the door now and the red guards were gradually gaining ground into the house. He turned towards Mirabelle and-

d'Artagnan

"We can come as well" d'Artagnan complained as Athos mounted his horse. He had been shouted down when he suggested they set off again. He was quietly grateful not to have to ride but he didn't like to think of Athos going alone. Porthos had woken again, more aware than the last and had demanded that he accompany Athos but he had been denied. He had told d'Artagnan when Athos wasn't listening that he was going to go anyway. This wasn't a good idea but d'Artagnan certainly wasn't going to try and stop him. He thought he might even go himself. The thud of Athos' horse faded away and d'Artagnan was left standing next to a grumpy Porthos in the middle of no-where while two of their brothers were in mortal danger. He didn't move when Porthos mounted his own horse, even muttering a half-hearted good luck. Now he was completely alone and if his friends died then it would his fault for not being there. The other musketeers were far more skilled than him and his presence would almost definitely not make that much of a difference but the thought that he **could **have saved them but didn't was far worse than the thought that he **did **do something but couldn't save them. He silently apologised to Athos as he galloped to catch up with Porthos.

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Sorry it took so long (**again**). I think I need to stop making promises now about upload dates. All I can say is that I will tryto upload the next chapter as soon as I can. Thanks for reading, please review :)


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, finally finished. I am hoping that will be the longest gap between uploads. Enjoy :)

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Athos

Not ten minutes into his journey Athos heard the telltale thud of horses galloping behind him. He sighed but didn't stop. He hadn't been expecting any less of them but if they thought he was going to wait then they had another thing coming. He spurred his horse onwards even faster, not wanting to be dragged behind with his incapacitated companions. He thought he heard gunshots in the near distance and squinted ahead of him. It couldn't be... they were too late? He refused to let those thoughts inside his head so he simply put his head down and galloped as far as he could towards the source of the gunshots.

Aramis

- and moved towards her. No, he didn't. Why not? He looked around into blackness. Where could he be that was so pitch black? In the cellar? No, Melanie had brought torches with her. Perhaps he had been captured? No, not when he had just been beginning to think that they actually had a chance! There was suddenly a faint red glow before him. Embarrassed, he opened his eyes to see a well lit, airy room. Mirabelle was standing above him, a concerned expression on her face. For a moment he felt as if he had caught her out because she looked away quickly as soon as she saw that his eyes were open.

"What happened?" he groaned. Hi hand automatically reaching up to his head where he felt a painful bruise.

"You were knocked out; one of the red guards got you on the back of the head with the hilt of his sword. Stupid mistake left me to finish off the rest of them. I did finish them off naturally but there'll be more and you won't be much help now" despite her harsh words there was still that hint of concern on Mirabelle's face that was reflected in her tone of voice. He knew that he could pick up on it but he imagined that she might be a bit touchy about the subject. She had spent so long growing into the hardened, fearless and cold fighter that she was today that she would see signs of compassion as signs of weakness.

"I can still help" he said smiling "It is my head that is injured, not my hands. As long as I can still hold a sword and a pistol, I will help."

"Just holding your weapons and lying there won't really be good enough, are you sure you can even stand?"

"I can stand just fine" Aramis insisted, leaping to his feet. The room spun dramatically and for a moment he felt like he might be sick but he opted to conceal this information from his companion. Besides, she would almost certainly realise it for herself when he threw up in the middle of a fight. For now, however she simply nodded, if a bit hesitantly, and waved him over to the window.

"You any good at shooting?"

Aramis refrained from pointing out that he was more than 'good', somehow he didn't think this would do anything to improve Mirabelle's already less than sociable mood.

"Yeah" he replied rather lamely

"Show me" Mirabelle demanded "The red guards have regrouped, the cardinal is nowhere to be seen but that man at the front looks like a leader to me."

Aramis instantly understood and raised his pistol towards the supposed leader's head, firing with a steady hand. He didn't need to look to know that it had hit. The shocked exclamations from outside and Mirabelle's pleased expression confirmed that.

"Right. Then stay here." She said "They will approach soon; they are sitting ducks as they are. Take as many of them out from here as you can then join me." Mirabelle paused at the top of the stairs and laid her own pistol down on a table. "You'll have more use for this than I" She shot a last glance behind her before descending and the concern in her eyes was clear this time.

"Good luck" he called down to her, adding under his breath "We'll need it..."

He grabbed her pistol from where she'd left it and fired out the window again, again hitting his target. Two down. He quickly reloaded the pistols and fired both shots in quick succession, watching in satisfaction as two more horses galloped on riderless. He went on in this fashion until the bullets had run out. He had managed to take down nineteen men (he had missed once) which he hoped had made enough of an impact. He left the pistols, now useless, on the window ledge and hurried down the stairs to join Mirabelle, she was currently ducking a blow from a rather over-enthusiastic red guard who quickly paid for his optimism when his wild lunge drove his sword into the chest of a fellow red guard. Mirabelle rolled out of the way as the two fell together into the space which she had just occupied. She grinned at Aramis as if she had forgotten all her anger towards him. It felt like they were a team. Aramis managed to suppress the growing feeling of nausea as the battle wore on and the pile of fallen guards steadily grew. Suddenly there seemed to be a lull in the onslaught, Aramis risked a sideways glance at Mirabelle who stood twirling her sword from hand to hand. A wave of light headedness washed over him and he swayed slightly.

"Aramis?" Mirabelle question steadying him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you okay? Is it your head?"

"I'm **fine**" Aramis said, using most of his energy just to stand upright. Mirabelle realised that her hand was still on his arm and withdrew it quickly, looking away.

"Good, because I don't think that was the last of them." Aramis wondered why she was so sure of that then he heard the approaching hoof beats. He was puzzled though, it sounded like only one horse. He poked his head around the empty door frame to see that there was indeed only one horseman, but that no longer made him feel that there was any less threat. The way he was so confidently cruising towards the cottage, as if company would be more of a nuisance than a help.

"One man" He informed Mirabelle, gesturing that she should also take a look. Mirabelle took up the same position as he had by the door and the colour drained from her face.

"Yet he is more dangerous than a thousand musketeers. I know this man. He tortured my parents; he pushed for the death sentence when they would not cooperate. He tortured me, and Melanie. This man is death, war, famine and pestilence all bundled into one twisted creature of malevolence and malice."

"Nothing to worry about then?" he said smiling. Mirabelle scowled back at him and suddenly the feeling of companionship vanished.

"You do not joke about this man."

"Two of us, one of him. How hard can it be?"

"I will not face him again; I am going down to join Melanie. I do not wish to die today. If you have any sense of self preservation then you will follow me."

"What happened to leaving me to die in a ditch?"

"That would not assist our present situation, you are still useful" she said with her back to him and she crossed the room towards the trapdoor. Aramis smiled, until then he had thought she truly would be happy to let him die.

"The cellar isn't exactly a fortress, they would find it eventually and then there is no escape. I'm going to stay here and make sure that doesn't happen."

The trap door slammed closed. The man who was death, war, famine and pestilence rode on towards the ruined house. The apocalypse approached.

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Thanks for reading :)

Now I'm confused about whether it should be Melanie and Aramis, Mirabelle and Aramis, or neither! I was planning on Melanie but Mirabelle seems to have other ideas. Please review if you know what you'd rather it be (and if you don't) and I'll try to get the next chapter up by/on the weekend. :)


	14. Chapter 14

Ooh, I actually kept an update time promise! Yay me :) Enjoy

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Melanie

Melanie shivered. The desolate cold of the cellar had begun to seep through her clothes. The torches she had brought had burned down to stubs quickly and were now lying lightless on the floor. Mirabelle had promised to join her. Despite what her sister had done, she had never broken a promise. She had heard gunshots and fighting. And now there was silence. Silence on a battle field (for that is what their small haven had now become) could mean many things.

It could be a silence of the absence of fighting; a shining hope that all was well and peace had prevailed.

It could be a silence of deception and trickery, a torturous breath-holding time of waiting until plots were put into action and traps were sprung.

Or it could be a silence of death, when the noises that were no longer there screamed far louder than any voice could, when you could feel the thud of heartbeats that you didn't know existed until they were gone.

Melanie listened. Silence formed a blanket of uncertainty around her. Then a sound that was to her more welcoming than any other on all of God's earth broke through the thin floors and floated happily to her ears. The sound of a murmured conversation between the two people whose voices she would recognise in the middle of a shouting mob. The sound of footsteps, amplified through the shaking floor, followed the conversation. Melanie couldn't tell if they belonged to her sister or Aramis but she could tell that they were approaching the cellar. Light blossomed from a small slit near her head that widened to a square and then slammed closed, drawing the light with it.

"Why's it so dark in here?" Mirabelle questioned.

Melanie felt like laughing. She had spent the past God-knows-how-long down in the dank cellar awaiting her sister's (hopefully) triumphant return and her first words were a comment on the state of the torches. She threw her arms around her sister, feeling Mirabelle stagger backwards slightly at the shock of the sudden embrace.

"I missed you too Melly"

Melanie stepped back and had to stop herself from gasping in shock. Mirabelle hadn't called her 'Melly' since Before. This was what she now called the time before her parents had died.

"Are you injured?" Melanie asked, attempting to squint through the coal black darkness to see her sister.

"No, I'm fine, don't fuss" she replied, and Melanie thought she detected the hint a laugh in her words.

"Where's Aramis, is he okay?"

"Ah, listen, Melly, please don't be mad" the laugh was gone now, yet Melanie still thought that there was a kindness in her voice that hadn't been there for a long time.

"Why would I be mad? What have you done? Is he-?"

"He's fine, for now..."

"For now?"

"The red guards were not alone..."

"How do you mean?"

"Évrard was with them, he approaches as we speak"

Melanie didn't reply, she couldn't. Mirabelle had left Aramis alone to face the most dangerous man they had ever met. He was going to be killed because of her. Mirabelle seemed to sense what she was thinking.

"Listen, you know that we wouldn't make any difference, he would simply kill us both and step over our corpses to plunge that cruel sword of his into Aramis' chest."

"But we would have tried"

"I'm sure that would be a great comfort to Aramis while he's lying rotting in the ground."

"We cannot let him die alone!"

"He would not want us to die with him!"

Melanie realised these words were true as soon as Mirabelle spoke them. Aramis had saved both their lives; he would not wish them to undermine his efforts by throwing their lives away now.

"Please Melly, don't go up there, I'm not losing you both"

Melanie knew that it would kill her sister if she put herself in danger. There was nothing she could do.

"Okay Mirri, I'll stay here with you"

And at that moment she honestly meant it.

Aramis

Aramis knew that the man was just around the corner behind the door frame. And the man knew he knew. They were playing a game, or rather, this newcomer was. He strolled out casually to stand in front of Aramis. Aramis raised his pistol to aim directly at the man's head.

"Quit the theatrics Monsieur Aramis, neither of us has the time."

Aramis' hand didn't waver.

"Leave now or I will shoot you where you stand."

"I highly doubt that, Monsieur"

"Oh, believe me, it would be my pleasure"

"I'm sure, but pleasure or not I have yet to see a man successfully threaten me with an empty pistol. A couple have tried, like you here today Monsieur. They are dead now."

Aramis knew there was no point in continuing the charade; he had run out of bullets when he was shooting upstairs. Well, it was worth a try. If this was going to come down to a duel then Aramis could at least make sure that he had a small advantage. He lunged forward with no warning, sword in hand. To his credit, the apocalypse man only looked shocked for a second before deftly parrying the blow with a jagged rapier. Then the duel had begun. Aramis ducked the next blow aimed at his neck and parried the following one. He returned with three strikes of his own which were almost lazily waved away. After barely a glance at the concealed trap door, an idea formulated in Aramis' mind, he backed off slowly, leading the fight towards the staircase. If he could get this man to follow him upstairs then Mirabelle and Melanie could leave the cellar and run before the man noticed. He placed his foot on the first step and was pleased to see the man moving to follow. Aramis began to think that perhaps they had a chance, after Mirabelle and Melanie escaped he could maybe defeat this man, having the advantage of a while getting used to fighting in the enclosed space of the cottage. The duo reached the top of the stair case and was in the upstairs room. Aramis prayed that Mirabelle and Melanie had heard their movement and decided to make a break for it. Aramis began to become aware of a throbbing in his head, and remembered the blow from earlier. He staggered backwards slightly, the man pushing forward as he did and his blade came within inches of Aramis' neck before he managed to block it with his own sword. Aramis suddenly felt sick, he tried to fight back the waves of nausea as he had earlier but found it much harder. It was all he could do to duck out of the way of the next blow. If he hadn't before, he now knew that he had no hope of beating this man, but he hoped to buy Mirabelle and Melanie as much time as possible, hoped that they could still escape. All his hopes were shattered at the sound of more hoof beats outside.

Athos

Athos leaped from his horse as it slowed alongside the decrepit building. He tried to walk softly and entered through the empty doorway; at first he thought they were already too late. But a quick scan of the bodies heaped on the floor told him that Aramis was not among them. He began to let himself think that Aramis had defeated all the red guards and escaped until he heard the clash of metal on metal coming from above his head. He climbed the rickety stairs as silently as possible and before long the fight was in full view. There was just one man fighting Aramis, who looked unhurt thank God. Athos continued his slow progress, there was nothing to worry about, and it would all be fine. Relief surged inside him, only briefly lessened when he saw his friend stagger slightly. He had to resist calling Aramis' name; he didn't want to be noticed by the attacker yet. Aramis seemed to be doing well by himself and the attacker started retreating across the room. Athos' concerns drifted away, but were pulled back roughly when he saw Aramis throw up in the corner. That was definitely a Bad Sign. He ran now up the stairs, not caring if he was heard or seen, the attacker's sword was again plunging towards the now defenceless Aramis.

Aramis

Aramis felt his energy leave him. He could do nothing to stop the flood of sickness that filled him and he threw up unceremoniously on the floor. He raised his sword weakly but couldn't see clearly through the involuntary tears that had blurred his vision. He blinked them away and an unpleasant image came into focus, a sword was advancing towards his heart, he began to dodge too late and the blood stained weapon was plunged into his side. He gasped in pain, he couldn't find the energy to cry out, he was lying on his back without recalling the journey from upright to the ground. Ringing filled his ears and his vision was again blurred by tears but he could still tell when the sword was yanked from his side. This time he did scream. His hands flew to his side and were soaked with blood within seconds. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. He knew that he was going to die. He had been wounded before, but then he had been surrounded by his brothers. Now he was alone and he was going to die here in this neglected house. No-one would even care. His friends thought he had abandoned them. He was alone. Black ink flooded his vision.

Athos 

"Aramis!" Athos yelled. Watching helplessly as his friend fell to the ground. The attacker smiled wickedly and yanked the sword from Aramis' side. At the sound of Aramis' scream Athos knew that this man had to die, no matter what else happened in the world, the man who had hurt Aramis would die. Athos drew his sword and leapt towards the attacker, not caring how many times the blade sliced his flesh, only thinking of the moment when his own sword would be buried in the other man's heart. The blade smashed against the side of Athos' head.

"Ha!" the attacker called out "Good night musketeer."

Porthos

Porthos reached the building moments before d'Artagnan. Both alighting softly and tiptoeing around the door. All was still and the shining rays of home enveloped them, soon to be chased away by a blood-curdling scream. Porthos instantly recognised it as Aramis.

"Too late" He said simply, and fell to the ground in horror, exhaustion catching up with him. All that had kept him upright had been the thought that he had to save Aramis, now that chance was gone. He closed his eyes willingly, thankful for the rest after his constant struggle to keep going. Nothing mattered now, no-one would mind if he just went to sleep. In his worn out state the splintered wooden boards felt like the softest feathers.

d'Artagnan

The scream that marked their failure felt like a solid wall slamming into d'Artagnan. All the breath seemed to leave his lungs and he sank to his knees. They had left well before the red guards had, they should now be cantering along happily back to Paris with Aramis alongside them, laughing about the hectic events of the past days. d'Artagnan wasn't entirely sure at what point he lost consciousness but unless the floor of this cottage habitually turned into a writhing pit of snakes, it must have happened some time.

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'Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.'

-Terry Pratchett

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Thanks for reading :) I noticed that no-one except SirLancelotTheBrave has reviewed for the past six chapters, reviews are my source of power, without them I melt like a wicked witch in the rain (incidentally I melt in the rain as well) so please review, it doesn't take long and it really makes me happy to read them, good or bad, thanks :)


	15. Chapter 15

Here we go, sorry, this chapter is a bit lacking in musketeers but necessary. Enjoy :)

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Melanie

Melanie heard the scream. It sent a shiver through her whole body and she collapsed to the floor.

"Mirabelle?"

Mirabelle stood in the shadows, staring into the darkness. It seemed she hadn't heard the scream, though that seemed near impossible, but then Melanie noticed a tear rolling down her cheek, it rested for a moment on her chin before splashing to the cool stone floor.

"They will pay" She said, her face still as stone. "They will die on their knees, begging for mercy. But there is no mercy, only me."

"Mirabelle..."

"Don't you dare try and stop me Melanie Breaux; you think that man deserves my mercy? His soul is so far beyond redemption that the devil himself would shy away in fear of contamination. The fires from the very pits of hell recoil at his touch. No, he deserves no mercy from me or any other who walks this earth, let a consort of demons be his jury and death be his judge."

"Mirabelle..."

"Melanie, shut up!"

"No, Mirabelle listen! You are not like him, you are not-"

"No I am not like him, so his death will be quick, what comes before, however... Besides, think carefully about how you finish that sentence, what were you going to say? That I'm not a killer? Because that would be wrong. I have killed before and gladly would again if I thought it would help those I loved. Perhaps I made an error in attacking the musketeers, I can see that now, I couldn't then, blinded as I was by grief and rage, but I can assure you I would feel no guilt at this man's death."

"Shut up! You don't think I know you've killed? I know, no matter how hard I try to forget! But that does not make you a killer! I know you, Mirri, I thought I didn't know you anymore but I reckon that you haven't really changed, you were just scared and desperate, that does not make you a killer, don't try and tell me you feel no remorse at the injuries and, yes, deaths that you caused? You have a chance to redeem yourself, settle the score. If you took him back to Paris-"

"Then he would receive a hero's welcome and Aramis would be hanged, if he isn't dead already, along with me and you! Do not be so naive!"

"And why is that? Because you went into the city, you attacked blameless musketeers and revealed our existence to the cardinal. It is because of you that this happened!"

Mirabelle's face was stone again. She stared for a few seconds, saying nothing.

"Yes." Her voice was calm now "It is my mess to fix, do **not **try to stop me."

She was across the room and shimmying up the ladder before Melanie could move to stop her.

It closed with a particularly loud crash and there was the sound of something heavy being dragged across it.

Mirabelle

Once Mirabelle was through the trapdoor she dragged a fallen wardrobe over it. Melanie would be in too much danger if she left. The scream had come from upstairs. She began to creep slowly.

When she entered the room she saw the sight she had been dreading, Évrard was looming over the bloodied form of Aramis. She had told herself she was prepared for this but when she saw him lying limp on the floor, a pool of blood growing below him she couldn't help but cry out. Évrard turned, and grinned. Never a good sign. She stumbled and fell backwards to the floor, he advanced and Mirabelle began shuffling backwards. There was the body of another musketeer near the door, perhaps a friend of Aramis or perhaps he was working with the red guards. That was of little consequence, he had a sword which she hastily yanked out of its sheathe and brought up to meet Évrard's blood stained weapon as it was brought towards her neck.

"Little Melanie" Évrard's grin grew, if possible, even wider. "My my, that devious fool was right. Don't worry darling, I don't want to hurt you"

This comment seemed rather futile as he aimed another swipe at her throat which she again blocked with the borrowed sword.

"I just want to know what you know; because I think you were lying when you said you didn't know weren't you? Your mamma and papa told you about it didn't them? You can tell me, its okay"

"Shut up! You lying-aghh!" She narrowly rolled away from the crushing blow from he hilt of the sword aimed at her skull.

She took his second of confusion to get back on her feet and raised her sword to meet his, staring into his eyes.

"You know what? Maybe I could tell you, because you're not going to be alive to tell anyone else. I may as well say now, I'm not Melanie, I'm Mirabelle. You killed me once before so I reckon it's time we got even"

"Go on then, tell me, I'm curious"

Mirabelle chuckled.

"Okay so I'm confident but I'm not going to go that far!" The last word was shouted over the clash of metal on metal.

"And it seems even your confidence is foolishness in disguise" He knocked the stolen sword from her hand and stood smugly in front of her, jagged sword raised.

"Mirabelle!" Melanie rushed in from behind her sister and raised a sword the bat Évarard's out of the way.

"Melanie, how?"

"No time" the next blows from both sides were deftly parried.

"Wow, Melly, how did you-?"

"No time!" Melanie kicked Évard on the shins and brought her empty fist into his stomach as he stumbled forward.

D'Artagnan

D'Artagnan was woken by a faint yell.

"Mirabelle!"

He frowned and blinked, trying to scramble towards the sound but it kept on moving around.

"Hello?" He called out

"Hello who's there?"

"I am d'Artagnan of the king's musketeers"

"Do you know Aramis?"

"Yes he's a friend of mine... where are you?"

"In the cellar! Move that wardrobe!"

D'Artagnan obliged, still dazed. He wondered if he was still unconscious when he saw a woman pull herself up from the whole in the floor."

"I am Melanie Breaux, you may have heard of me"

"Your name may have been mentioned... "

"Aramis, where is he?"

"Upstairs, but he-"

"I know, I heard the scream to but that doesn't mean that all hope is lost. Hand me your sword."

"What?"

"You think you are in any state to fight? Hand me your sword!"

"No, it's mine, I can-"

"Aramis could die! Just hand me the sword!"

"Right, yes, sorry" he pulled his sword from its sheathe and handed it handle first to Melanie.

"Thank you" she said and hurried up the stairs.

D'Artagnan blinked after her and lay on the floor again, letting his eyes close.

Mirabelle

Évrard doubled over clutching his stomach.

"Mirabelle! Is Aramis still alive?"

Mirabelle crouched down beside Aramis and placed her ear to his chest, ignoring the fact that her hair had fallen in the blood and the tips were now turned red. She heard the faint thump of a heartbeat and almost shouted in joy. She saw Évrard stand up straight and was brought back to reality.

"Yes, just"

"Well you know-" She paused to block a strike from Évrard "-that you... **liberated**... those bandages and medical stuff, now may be the time-" She drove her sword towards Évrard, narrowly missing his stomach "-that they come in useful, hurry!"

Mirabelle nodded, slightly shocked and hurried down the stairs.

Melanie

Melanie knocked the sword from Évrard's smug hands and smiled, her sword at his throat.

"I argued with Mirri earlier you know, I said she should have **mercy. **You pathetic scum! I told her to spare you!"

She pushed her sword forward, a drop of blood rolled down his throat.

"Look at me! I want you to know that it was **me**, little Melanie Breaux, that killed you!"

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him! The voices grew louder, yelling in her head.

"I have never killed anyone before, I am looking forward to seeing what it's like."

She smiled, satisfied with the look of fear on her victim's face. That's right, kill him, he deserves it, just thrust your sword forward and no more Évrard, your parent's deaths will be avenged. Melanie tried to think of some clever line to say before parting her victim's soul from his pathetic cowering body. Then she remembered all those years ago, it the cold torture cell."

"_Hello little Melanie" The large man said, smiling down at her."If you love your mama and papa and darling little Mirabelle then you will tell me what your aunty told you"_

"_She never told me anything. But I can tell you what I know, if you promise to let my mama and papa, and Mirabelle go" she said_

"_If you tell us what we want to hear, then you can all go home, you'll like that won't you?"_

"_I know she was a spy"_

"_Good girl."_

"_I remember she went to England, she never told me what she did then"_

"_Well that __**is **__helpful" he laughed "she never told you, just brilliant"_

"_I don't know much more I swear!"_

"_Oh I believe you, little Melanie, but you will tell me every last detail, no matter how insignificant it seems. Because, little Melanie,_

_**I am stronger that you, see? I am better than you, no-one will hear you as you beg for mercy, no-one but me and do you think I will give you that mercy that you desire, hmm? No, because you are nothing, nothing!"**_

"I am stronger that you, see? I am better than you, no-one will hear you as you beg for mercy, no-one but me and do you think I will give you that mercy that you desire, hmm? No, because you are nothing, nothing!" she said the words along with the memory, then added something of her own "I hope you burn in hell you worthless son of a bitch!" She drew the sword back and prepared to thrust in into his throat.

"Melanie no!" A weak voice cried out, Aramis. She turned to him in time to see his head fall back to the floor and his eyes close but it had been enough. The spell was broken, the vengeful voice was gone.

"No!" she echoed. "No, I am **not **like you!" she dropped the sword to the ground, kicking it away from Évrard's grasp. After a second of hesitation she kicked the defeated apocalypse man in the head and he crumpled. "Shit, there's usually a handy coil of rope in situations like this." Her eyes darted around the room and rested on the dead musketeer she had seen earlier.

"Sorry about this" she muttered, removing his jacket and going to tear open his shirt for the cloth. A hand grabbed her wrist. The musketeer stared at her.

"Oh... you're not dead then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Remind me never to let you be my doctor, I'll be ten feet below the ground with skinned knee."

"Wait, you're Aramis' friend, right? From the garrison?"

"Athos" he said, releasing his grasp "I don't mean to be rude but might I inquire as to why you have started undressing me?"

Melanie giggled, actually giggled. "I don't fancy being near **that **bastard when he wakes up unless his feet and hands are bound. I thought I could use the cloth from your shirt"

"Well, seeing as I am **not** dead I suggest we leave my shirt where it is, though I am still slightly taken aback that you would loot a corpse for cloth"

"Sorry" she mumbled

"No harm done, I'll help you search"

Melanie nodded, and smiled. Évrard was defeated, Aramis was still alive, everything would be just fine.

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As always thanks for reading and please review, but this time especially please point out mistakes because I didn't have much time to read through this one :)


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